One Last Fairytale
by Kari Kurofai
Summary: There are stories. Of a princess and her forbidden love, and of a prince and his feelings for his servant. But those are all just stories to Alfred, and more than anything, he wants to find his own Happily Ever After. Us/Jp, Fr/Uk, Rs/Ps, Rs/Ch.
1. Chapter 1

**One Last Fairytale: A Story Within A Story**

His life was a fairytale. At least, that's what Alfred wanted to believe. Because, no matter what horrible things happened in fairytales, the last words would always be "And they lived happily ever after." He wished his life was like that, a place where such useless wishes came true. But if he took a moment to look at his life from a distance, he was sure he would see anyone else's ideal fairytale.

Alfred was royalty, the youngest son of the Kings of his country. King_s_, plural. Yes, in many ways, his life being a fairytale made a lot more sense, as the matter of his birth was an issue he questioned his parents on often, with no direct answers. Mostly just funny sideways looks from King Arthur, and rather creepy giggles from King Francis. It was a suspicious situation to say the least.

And his home was the same. He never understood why the stories he was so fascinated with were called _fairy_tales when fairies themselves were more real than any of those written lies. His father's prized steed was a beautiful, silver furred unicorn. His older brother had slain a dragon or two. And his other father had once met a siren. To Alfred, fairytales were like life, except with a happy ending to wrap it up, rather than the dark reality he knew really existed. .

But that didn't mean he never enjoyed the stories he was told. Until he was seven, his fathers would read them to him before bed. He remembered various tales, but his favorite was the one about the forbidden love of the Prince and Princess. One his father Francis told, and that Arthur would only listen, occasionally butting in saying that part of it was incorrect.

"_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess of the Kingdom of Hetalia. On her eighteenth birthday, she was set to marry one of the many prince's of her nation. But she disliked them all, and snuck out of the castle one after noon for some fresh air," _was how Francis would always start out the tale.

"_That's when she met the handsome prince of the Southeast Kingdom. He was bold, and dashing, and brave and-"_

"_And full of crap,"_ Arthur would cut in, _"Just get on with it, Frog."_

"_Oui, cheri," _Francis would laugh, _"So, the prince and the princess met, and had many adventures together on the castle grounds. They swam in the lake with the sea serpent in it, and they rode the princess's prized unicorn. And one night, they even saw a fairy ring by the far north wall. And they kissed for the first time while the fairies danced and played around them."_

At this part in the story, Arthur would always get a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was lost in a memory, rather than the actual tale itself. And Francis would smile, _"And the angleterre and the prince fell in love. But unfortunately, the next morning, the king and queen announced the name of the prince they'd chosen for the princess to marry, and it was not the prince she loved. Furious, she asked as to why, to which they replied that because the prince she loved was the second son of the Southeastern Kingdom's High Prince, and the child of a mistress, rather than the Queen, that he was unworthy of her hand. She tried to get away, but her parents locked her in her room, and set the castle guards to kill the prince should he attempt to see her."_

The next and final part was always told by Arthur, _"But one night, just when the princess thought she would never see her prince again, there was a commotion in the stables. The prince came riding out on her unicorn, cutting down any guards that got in between them. And the princess climbed out the window to meet him, and they rode off, jumping over the drawbridge just before it closed. They got away, and they were never caught, riding away to a place where they could live without the rules of the Nobility. And they lived happily ever after." _

That was one of the only stories Alfred felt had some truth in it. In normal fairytales, the prince and the princess would remain prince and princess, yet here, they gave up their titles to be together.

From age eight to the present, the stories came to his ears in soft whispers by his older brother Ivan. The year that he had turned seven, however, was the year he hadn't listened to a single story. That was the year he'd learned that his own life, though it may resemble a fairytale, would not end with that longed for "Happily ever after." He'd given up. His parents practically had to force him to eat, and his brother hadn't fared much better.

In fact, it was the eldest prince that finally forced Alfred to want to live again. The blond had given up; lying on his bed with eyes closed to the world he felt had betrayed him. He was only seven, and already, it hurt too much to see anymore of it. Ivan had snuck into his room, fingers brushing soothingly over the comatose-like child's hair. When Alfred had jolted out of his state of semi-consciousness, protesting and drawing away from his touch, the older had lifted him bodily off the bed, carrying him across the hall to his own room.

Lavender eyes met blue with determination. "Alfred," the eldest prince had murmured, holding up a book in his free hand that wasn't tangled in his sibling's hair. "It's okay to keep believing in happy endings. I _want _you to believe that everything can one day turn out all right again."

Alfred tried in vain to jerk away again, only to be caught by the arm and pulled against his older brother's chest with a strangled sob. "Let me go!" he wailed, digging his nails into Ivan's hand, tears stinging the corners of his sky blue eyes. But he refused to let them fall. "I don't want to read those anymore!" They're nothing but lies! There's no such thing as Happily Ever After!" He sucked in a shaky breath, "There's . . . There's only death . . . Please, Ivan, just let me die too."

Ivan growled under his breath, pulling the child impossibly closer, burying his face in his younger brother's hair. "I can't do that Alfred. I know it hurts, he was my brother too. But . . . Even so . . . He wouldn't want you to be like this. You don't eat, you hardly sleep . . . You've . . . You've never cried for him, not once."

The younger prince shook his head fiercely against Ivan's shoulder, "I can't! That would be admitting that he's gone . . . And I . . ." He swallowed, forcing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, "I promised! I promised that we'd be together forever! We were born together, we were supposed to die that way too! It's not fair!" He clenched his fists against Ivan's shirt, "It's not fair!" And this time, he didn't care that the hot tears trickled down his cheeks, or that the uncontrollable sobs wracked his body. Because deep down, he'd known all along. In real life, death couldn't be overcome by True Love's First Kiss. It was permanent, cold, and painful. And crying, or not crying, would do nothing to bring his brother back. So Alfred cried, clinging to Ivan as though he was a lifeline, choking out the name he'd refused to say for nearly a year.

"Mattie, Mattie . . . Ivan, why did it have to be him? It's not fair."

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

The golden haired prince crept nervously down the halls, pillow clutched tightly to his chest. It's not like he was doing anything wrong, this was _his _castle after all. Okay, his _parent's_ castle, but still. Actually, it was said parents he was afraid of running into this late at night.

"_It's a little weird for you to keep doing this at your age," Arthur chided, "I'll have no more of it."_

"_He's only seventeen . . ." Francis started._

"_Which means that in a few months he'll be eighteen! Legally old enough_ _to inherit our throne should we die!" Arthur spat in reply._

_Francis looked aghast, "Mon cheri! You're going to jinx us saying such things! Quick, knock on wood!"_

_Arthur leaned over to tap the wall just to make his husband shut up, when the older of the pair had said, in slight exasperation, "Not that wood." To which Arthur had merely stared at him blankly. Francis grabbed him around the waist, whispering something in his ear and watching with a satisfied smirk as the king blushed furiously, before dashing off with Arthur still in his clutches._

Alfred never got to hear the end of that conversation (he was rather glad he didn't), but he suspected that Francis had probably caved in the end and agreed that the young prince could be punished should he do it again. The blond struck a pose in the middle of the hallway, feeling a bit put out at the thought. "Oh who cares! I'm the hero! I should get to do what I want!"

"A very _loud_ hero who had a nightmare and snuck out of bed again," a voice said irritably from behind the door to Alfred's right, making him jump.

Picking up the pillow from where he'd tossed it on the floor in order to strike his princely and heroic pose, he shuffled into the room, locking the door behind him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the person sitting up in the bed on the far side of the room. "Well that's your fault," he muttered, "you're the one who switched your room to the north wing, when mine is in the south."

Lavender eyes blinked slowly in reply, "I did it because you're so clingy," Ivan deadpanned. "And you're too old for this," he added, repeating their father's words.

Alfred stuck out his bottom lip in protest, "It's been a month since I last snuck in, bastard. And besides, you _know_ that this is a bad week for me."

Ivan continued to glare at him for a moment, before he sighed, "Fine, come here."

The younger prince let out a whoop, belly flopping onto the bed and winding the older man. He wiggled across the covers until he could slip in beside him with a broad grin, ignoring the annoyed look Ivan gave him. "Tell me a story," he prompted softly.

The other sighed again, running his fingers through his ash-blond hair before he leaned over to playfully ruffle Alfred's, "Once upon a time-"

"Tell the one about the prince and the beautiful servant girl," Alfred interrupted.

Ivan's gaze darkened briefly, his smile faltering before he replaced the look with his usual mask of happiness. "Once upon a time, there was a prince. The prince was served by a beautiful lady in waiting, one who was almost the same age as himself. But in the kingdom, it was forbidden to marry anyone without noble blood. So even if the prince fell in love with her, they could never be together."

"Did they fall in love anyways?" Alfred asked, though he'd heard the tale many times over.

"Yes," Ivan murmured near his ear, a word that was almost a sigh as he hooked an arm around Alfred's waist. "They did fall in love. And after a few months of meeting in secret, they decided to run away together. Escape the castle, and the laws that prevented their love."

"And did they get away?" Alfred yawned.

"They did," Ivan whispered, something flickering in his eyes. "And they got married, had children, and lived happily ever after." He bit his lip as Alfred snored softly against his chest, thoughts churning through his mind. Even if it was his brother's favorite story, Ivan hated it. Because he knew, better than anyone, that that was the one story with a lie at the end. He flinched slightly, tasting the blood that came from the bite mark in his mouth. He wished life were as perfect as a fairy tale. Where the "princess" and the prince would have never had to return to the castle that forbid their love. Where a prince, and his devoted servant could have gotten away. And where two twin brothers could have lived side by side forever. Instead, he could only taste the blood on his lip, tainted with memories of "fairytales" stained with crimson endings.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Hello all! Nice to meet u and welcome back! *bows* this one is turning out to be my pride and joy. The original idea for it came when I heard the song Down by Jay Sean (or whatever) on a Hetalia video, and I pictured a masked ball with all our Hetalia charies. But in my head, there were two key characters missing, and slowly, the fact that they were missing developed into a fairytale like setting of this story, the castle in the kingdom of Hetalia and the people who lived there.

Now, to explain the workings of their kingdom. There are three main "mini" kingdoms inside it, ruled and watched over by a High Prince. The King and er . . . King, live in the center of the Kingdom, they have control over the entire land and the three High Princes inside. The "mini" kingdoms are: The North Kingdom, currently watched over by High Princess Natalia (reasons for this will show up later, chapter 3 or so) - The West Kingdom, ruled over by High Prince Gilbert - and the Southeast Kingdom, governed by High Prince Antonio. There's a very extensive family of the Nobility, (the people of the castle in the center of the kingdom) as well as a neighboring Kingdom across the sea where a certain little love interest for Alfred came from originally. Everything will be explained in due time, no worries.

The next three to five chapters (not sure how many yet) will take place in the past, explaining everything leading up to the Tragedy of Eleven Years Ago. And then we'll skip back to the present. Alfred will take up the story then again, as he will hardly be in those 3-5 chapters. But no worries, Ameri-tan is our main hero here.


	2. Chapter 2

**One Last Fairytale: Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust**

From the day he was born, Arthur had been raised to be his country's heir to the throne. He was the only son of the previous king and queen, the hopes and dreams of his nation. But he was a "stubborn, arrogant fool," as he father said. He acted out, purposefully going against the rules and laws of his land from day one and just as when every prince turns eighteen; eligible princesses flocked to the castle to be chosen as the next queen. Arthur was disgusted with them all.

Leaning his head on his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the king's throne, he watched the girls chattering noisily on the floor below with disinterest. "I'm wondering why you came here at all," he muttered, glancing to the girl at his side.

She grinned broadly, kicking her legs back and forth as she sat in the queen's chair as if she owned it. Nonchalantly sweeping back her long brown hair from her viridian eyes, she replied, "Oh hush, like you care. Besides, if I sit here and talk with you, it'll dishearten all those silly girls down there. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but nodded in agreement, "More or less. But, Elizaveta, what will Roderich say when he finds out you're here?"

Elizaveta smiled knowingly, "Nothing. He's from the West Kingdom, and married into _my_ family, not the other way around. So technically, my royalty trumps his royalty." She patted Arthur's arm fondly, "Ah, the privileges of being your cousin."

"_Distant_ cousin," Arthur corrected, making a face. "You're lucky your blood is of the Nobility at all."

She waved a hand as if to say "pish-posh," leaning over the edge of the chair to peer down at the gathered princesses below. "Oh, look Seychelles is here. She's from a lower branch of the Southeast family. She's probably the most normal, why don't you choose her?"

"Because," Arthur replied, his voice tinged with annoyance, "I don't want to get married."

"What about Liech over there then?" Elizaveta continued as if she hadn't heard. "Aren't you good friends with her cousin Vash?"

"Good enough to get ruin through with a sword should I touch her," Arthur grumbled. "And besides, Liech is like, what, thirteen now?"

"When has age mattered?" Elizaveta snorted, "I married Roderich at fourteen. You're just making up excuses now."

"Maybe so," the prince said airily. He cast a glance over the crowd of girls below with a frown, "What would I have to give you to make a distraction for me?"

A slow smile spread across Elizaveta's face, "I was hoping you'd ask. Can I bargain for free reign of your wardrobe from now on?"

Arthur considered for a moment, know full well that she probably had already picked up dozens of outfits for him to wear. If nothing else, it would piss his parents off to no end if he came up to them in a maid outfit. Or worse. "Deal," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.

"Right," she grinned, shaking the hand enthusiastically, "Now skedaddle, cause I'm gonna make all hell break loose." She waited as Arthur casually slipped away down the hall before she launched herself into the crowd of suitors with an evil laugh.

The prince covered his ears as he heard the startled shrieks and squeals from the girls as he dashed down the hall, but he didn't dare look back to see what Elizaveta was doing. Noticing a guard a few rooms down, he turned towards the tall window to his right, throwing it open and jumping. He was only two stories up, but he still expected a rather rough landing, only to find himself entangled in a rather large bush. Growling in annoyance, he struggled to free himself, only to topple out onto his face, someone's loud laughter in his ears. Arthur groaned, raising his head from the ground to glare at the person laughing at a prince's misfortune.

The newcomer was a tall, broad-shouldered man, who couldn't have been more than two years older than Arthur himself. He put his hands on his knees, his mid-length blond hair falling over his crystal blue eyes as his sides shook with laughter. And he only laughed harder when he saw Arthur's furious glare.

"What are you laughing at!" Arthur burst out, unable to contain his anger and frustration at the situation any longer. "How dare you laugh at the Prince of the Nobility!"

The older man covered his mouth with a hand, doing his best to choke back another fit of giggles. "I apologize, ami. But it's the height of hilarity to be sitting here and suddenly see the Crown Prince come flying out the window only to land in a bush." He snickered again, tilting his head to the side, blue eyes twinkling with amusement, "So were the girls really that ugly?"

Arthur frowned, "No. I just have no desire whatsoever to be anywhere near them."

"So you have no sex drive?" the other asked, grinning.

"That's not what I said!" Arthur cried out, face growing red. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomer, "What are you doing on the castle grounds anyways?"

The other laughed at the suspicious look in Arthur's eyes, "Non, I'm not trespassing. I came here to escort mon Seychelles."

"You're from the Southeast Kingdom then?" Arthur made a face. That side of the kingdom was full of absolute weirdoes in his opinion. Case in point standing in front of him.

"Oui cheri," he smiled smugly, "my name is Francis von Bonnafoy."

Arthur blinked, once, twice, "_Bonnafoy_? You're the second son of High Prince Roman?!"

"But of course," Francis laughed, enjoying the astonished expression on the other, "How did you think I got this lovely face." He waved a hand as Arthur continued to gap at him, "It's nothing special. Mon Antonio will inherit the title; he's a few years older than me. As you can see, I am just an escort. It's apparently on my list of duties, but I think my father made it up to get out of coming himself." He smiled, "So, Mon Arthur, now that you've escaped from the awkward ladies, what are you going to do?"

"Probably just sleep," Arthur muttered after a moment's thought.

Francis looked astonished, "What? That's it? Not acceptable!" He pulled the prince up off the ground, "Come, let's go do something exciting!"

"Exciting . . ."

"Oui," Francis laughed, "Like . . . Oh, I know! I saw a unicorn in the stables earlier on the way here. Let's go look at it."

Arthur bit his lip, deciding not to mention that that was _his_ unicorn, and that it hated everyone but its owner. In fact, it had tried to bite quite a few of his giggling suitors just this morning. But maybe he could use this as a way to get rid of this obnoxious guy. He smiled to himself, whistling Francis lead him to the stable, and hearing an excited whinny in reply.

But to his utter surprise. When Francis reached out a hand towards the silver haired unicorn, the creature nuzzled him, rather than bit him. Amazed, he glanced at Francis in confusion, "Are you bribing him somehow?"

"Non, this is the first time I've met him," Francis smiled.

The prince cast a wary look at his steed, "Usually, Sterling bites everyone but me," he admitted, the unicorn gazing blankly at him when he shot him a glare.

"Can you ride him then?" Francis asked, petting the unicorn's silver nose with a content look on his face. "I've never seen anyone ride one of these before."

Arthur considered this a moment, and the possibility that Sterling might come to his senses and buck Francis off. "You want to try?" Before he'd even finished speaking, Francis had climbed up onto the door of Sterling's stable, swinging his legs over the unicorn's back. Arthur opened the door and watched, stunned, as Sterling trotted obediently out. "Did someone put something in your hay?" he mumbled under his breath. He gasped as Francis suddenly leaned down, pulling him up in front of him on the unicorn's back.

"Now we can have a real adventure," he laughed, digging his heals into the unicorn's sides and urging him into a gallop out of the stables.

The emerald eyed prince panicked, desperately seeking a handhold on Sterling's mane. There weren't any reigns, or a saddle, so it was only a matter of seconds before he started to fall. At least, until Francis hooked an arm securely around his waist, holding him steady.

The inside of the castle grounds was enough to hold not only the castle itself, but could have held a small town had the area inside not been full of various gardens. There was even a lake on the southern end. And it was on the shore of this lake that Francis pulled the unicorn to a halt. Arthur leaned back against his chest, eyes closed, "Are we dead?" he asked weakly.

"Of course not cheri," Francis chuckled. He didn't wait for Arthur to reply, jumping off Sterling and down onto the sand. And then to the prince's horror, he started to strip.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Arthur gasped, covering his eyes.

Francis glanced back at him with a "duh" expression on his face, "I'm going to swim in your lake." He flung his pants at Arthur, laughing as the blond gave an unmanly shriek and fell over backwards off the unicorn, landing with a strangled "oof" as the wind was knocked out of him. It took only a few minutes for the prince to regain his breath, tossing the trousers to the ground, growling in rage as Francis merely giggled and dashed off, stark naked, towards the water.

"Get back here!" he snapped, tugging his own clothes off as he raced after the older man. "I'm going to kill you you bloody wanker!"

Skipping backwards through the shallows, Francis continued to laugh, "Oh cheri, you couldn't even if you tried." he was up to his waist now, and as Arthur waded towards him, pure murder in his eyes, Francis sucked in a breath and ducked below the water. Arthur raised a characteristic eyebrow, watching the spot where the other had disappeared. He had to come up for air eventually . . . Right?

He didn't have time to take another breath as strong arms wrapped around his legs, pulling him under. Bubbles of whatever air he had left escaped him as he was surrounded by icy water. The arms pushed him deeper, and he felt a jet of bubbled near his ear. Tilting his head to the side, he caught sight of Francs floating a few inches above him, impossibly laughing under water. The other blond released him, allowing him to flail back to the surface.

Gasping for air, Arthur felt his fury rising, "What is wrong with you!?"

Francis was treading water beside him, grinning from ear to ear even as Arthur yelled at him. "Oh, mon cheri. Get out and live a little." He laughed as Arthur glared in reply; reaching out to take the prince's hand, "Let me show you, angleterre."

Arthur bit his lip, uncertainty clear in his emerald eyes, "I . . ."

"Do you trust me?"

The golden haired prince took a hesitant breath, squeezing the hand around his own, "Yes," he whispered.

Without another word, Francis pulled him underwater again. Arthur kept his eyes open, watching Francis through the slightly murky water. The older man smiled, keeping a firm grip on the other's hand as he motioned with the other towards the center of the lake. As they approached the deeper water, Arthur was amazed to see the number of fish daring enough to dart close to them, just outside their grasp. And the air almost escaped him when he noticed the massive serpent curled on the sandy lake floor below them.

Francis smirked when they burst back to the surface, "I dare you to touch that thing."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Yeah right, why would I be stupid enough to-"

"Then I'll do it," Francis chirped, diving back under before Arthur could protest. The prince stared at the ripples he'd left for a moment, before sinking down after him. He was surprised to find that Francis had swam only a few feet away, rather than down to the bottom where the lake serpent lay. He smirked again, flipping underwater and catching Arthur's hands. The prince sank further as their legs tangled together, Francis leading him towards the water snake. The older held up three fingers as they snuck up on the sleeping creature, lowering them one at a time, their hands poised together over it's scales. As the final finger lowered, they touched it, kicking up towards the surface frantically as its beady dark eyes snapped open.

"Swim faster!" Francis half screamed, half laughed as the water erupted behind them, the snake's long, horned head rearing out of the lake. He pushed Arthur ahead of him as they stumbled onto the shore, gasping and laughing as they collapsed on the grass far enough away from the lake that the beast wouldn't reach them.

Arthur's breath came in short, shallow gasps as he struggled to regain his heart rate, small giggles escaping him. He tilted his head to the side, catching sight of Francis watching him with satisfied blue eyes. He smiled back, for the first time that day. "Thank you," he said quietly. "That was the most fun I've had in ages."

Francis sat up, looking out at the lake with another laugh, "Don't speak to soon, cheri. I think the serpent just ate our clothes."

"What?!"

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Arthur never expected to hear from the other man again after that day, as most of the escorts for the various princesses were sent home on his father's request, the castle didn't have enough rooms. But two nights later, when the prince was fast asleep, there was a sharp tap on his window.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stumbled over to the glass, opening it up to the chilly night air and looking down onto the grounds. He blinked in surprise, seeing Francis standing on the grass below holding a handful of pebbles and looking up at him. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, leaning out the window.

Francis smirked, "Always the suspicious one, aren't you angleterre. But yes, I did sneak in. I was kicked out to an inn in the town a mile over, if you must know."

"So why are you here now?" Arthur prompted; glancing around for the guards he knew circled the castle every fifteen minutes.

"I came for you, cheri," Francis replied, as though it was a stupid question. "Would you like to go on another adventure?"

The prince narrowed his eyes, looking down at the three stories that separated them. "There are guards outside my room. I can't leave."

"Then jump," Francis smiled, holding out his arms, "I promise I'll catch you." When Arthur raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he said the same words he'd used before, "Do you trust me?"

And Arthur couldn't deny the unshakeable feeling that he did. Even though Francis was practically a total stranger, even though he had weirdly made friends with his unicorn, which was suspicious. But deep down, he trusted him, somehow. So he climbed up onto the sill and jumped, letting out a surprised breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Francis caught him, twirling him around with a light laugh. He looked up at him, the older being a good six inches taller, "So, where are we going?"

Blue eyes sparkled with mischief, "Anywhere you'd like, cheri." He looked up, listening intently as he heard the approaching footsteps of the guards. Grabbing Arthur's hand, he hurried away from the castle, pulling the other behind him, "Quick cheri, let's be of then."

Arthur chose one of his favorite gardens closest to the castle, the one that was full of small clovers and wildflowers. He knelt down in the clovers, searching through them with a carefree, gentle expression. Francis watched him, "Do you like this garden, angleterre?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, "but it's been years since I've been out of the castle long enough to see it." He smiled when Francis frowned in confusion at this, "I'm sure you've heard, right? That I'm the "dissapointment." I act out and get locked away, the usual," he shrugged, not noticing the furious look that crossed Francis's face. He huffed in surprise as the older blond suddenly wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pushing him to the ground. "What are you doing?" he asked, though not in the same, angry tone he'd used by the lake. He was more confused that frustrated with the other's behavior.

"You know, cheri, I was surprised you recognized the name of Bonnafoy when we met," Francis began. "It's not the name of my father, or older brother. It's my mothers." He placed a finger over Arthur's lips as the prince opened his mouth to interrupt. "My mother was not the queen, but one of my father's mistresses. So it is that I am considered not of royal blood." His eyes clouded, "I know my father loves me, and Antonio too. But . . . To my nation, and the Nobility, I don't exist. I do not have the rights of anyone higher than the lowest chain of royalty. In other words, I am nothing but a step above commoner."

Arthur looked shocked, and for a moment, Francis expected him to flinch away, to shun him like the others of his blood. But the prince did not, merely frowning at the thought of his parents putting Francis in such a position. "When I'm king, I'll change that. I'll make give you a position higher than your father's!" He mumbled something under his breath before turning his eyes back to Francis, "But . . . Thank you for telling me. I'm sure it was a hard thing to do." He paused, "Did you . . . Did you love your mother?"

"Oui," Francis replied softly, "she was beautiful. My father says that I have her hair and eyes," he smiled. "They say that she was a commoner from the North Kingdom. You know how they are, fair skin and hair and light eyes."

"I've never been to the North Kingdom," Arthur admitted.

Francis smiled, "Then one day, I'll take you there, angleterre. It's more beautiful than you can imagine. It's almost always snowing, and the land there is full of tall mountains and endless white. And at night, sometimes you can see lights of every color of the rainbow dancing across the dark, star filled sky."

Arthur blushed slightly, noticing that Francis's arms were still looped loosely around his neck as they lay in the flowers together, "I'd like to go," he replied. "If I can ever get out of this damn castle that is."

"I'll kidnap you," Francis grinned.

"Just don't get caught," Arthur replied teasingly.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

It was Arthur who instigated their next meeting, sneaking up on the older man just inside the castle gate while he was waiting for Seychelles. Francis unfortunately, didn't look at all surprised when Arthur grabbed him from behind. "Hello cheri, how have you been?"

Arthur scowled in annoyance, his arms around Francis's waist, "The hell, Francis? What do you mean "How have you been?" I'm fucking bored. Having to individually meet all those princesses everyday. It's so tedious, and there must be, I don't know, two hundred of them. I think I just saw the last of them today, thank god. Now I just have to take my own sweet time narrowing them down. At least five years, give or take a few." He looked up at the other, green eyes meeting blue, "And then, I plan to have you take me to the Northern Kingdom so I don't have to marry a single one, deal?"

"Of course, angleterre," Francis laughed, "So, shall we go on another grand adventure today?"

The prince cast a glance over his shoulder at the sky, "Yeah. It'll take awhile to get there, so let's head out now, while there's still a bit of light left."

They debated backtracking to the stable to get Sterling, but in the end, decided to walk the castle grounds. "This thing that I'm going to show you," Arthur began as they made their way through one of the larger gardens by the far north wall, "You can't tell anyone about it, okay? It's a secret, only I know. So you're lucky I'm going to show you at all, got it?" He smiled slightly as Francis smirked in agreement. "It only happens once a year, so I haven't seen it in awhile. I think I was fifteen last time I was able to get away for this long."

It was pitch dark out now, and they sat down in the middle of the garden, surrounded by flowers of all colors and sizes. "Don't talk," Arthur whispered, eyeing the orange autumn moon with anticipation. "And stay very still until I tell you that you can move." Ten minutes passed, then twenty, Francis growing impatient with the stillness and eerie silence of the garden. Until, suddenly, it exploded with light, tiny drops of colored rays rising up from the flowers all around them.

Francis held in a gasp, watching with awe as he realized that the lights were in fact, small fairies, rising up and dancing into the air around them. They formed large rings, clasping hands and twirling about. There was a noise in the air, like a hum and a tinkling laugh at the same time. The older man nearly jumped out of his skin as Arthur laid a hand on top of his, motioning silently for him to stand.

Arthur led him by the hand through the rings, smiling broadly. "Did you know," he whispered softly, turning to face Francis as they stepped into the biggest of the rings, "Creatures like this sorta just . . . Come to me. So as long as you stay close to me, they won't mind your presence." He laughed as one of the little fairies flew over, kissing his cheek, "For some reason, they all really like me. So they let me stay when they have their harvest moon dance every year."

"Have you ever shown this to anyone else?" Francis asked, awed as he watched the lights twist and turn around them.

"No," Arthur replied. "My parents . . . I tried to tell them about it one time, but they called me a liar. So the fairies said that I should act like one then, to prove a point. Do what I want, when I want." He smiled again, "You can't hear them, I know. They say that to you their voices will sound like bells or wind chimes. But . . ." he tilted his head to the side, apparently listening to the fairies, "They like you. They say that you're a strange man, but they like you because I li-" He paused, casting an embarrassed look at the ground.

Francis stared at him for a moment, before reaching over and taking Arthur's chin in his hand, tilting it up to place a light, almost innocent kiss on his lips. And for the briefest of moments, he could swear he heard the fairies too.

"_They've met, they've met. The moon and the sun, as different and as perfect together as the sky and the sea."_

Arthur pulled away slowly, startled, his face bright red, "Francis, what are-"

But Francis didn't give him time to finish the question, kissing him again, pulling him closer, arms around his waist. He licked Arthur's closed lips, smiling slightly as they obediently parted, allowing him a wider range of access. He dipped his tongue inside, catching a taste, trailing it across the inside of his mouth, over gums and teeth before finding Arthur's own. To which, the prince tentatively licked back, engaging a teasing, gentle war for dominance.

The prince rested his hands against Francis's chest as the other easily overpowered him, toppling them both over into the flowers, the fairies laughing and continuing their dance overhead. He fumbled with the buttons, the older blond taking his sweet time exploring Arthur's mouth. Francis neatly undid the clasps on the back of Arthur much more formal attire, slipping the first shirt off, shortly followed by the undergarments. Once he had the younger man's bare chest before him, he dipped his head down, rolling his tongue over an exposed nipple, smirking at the gasp he elicited as he bit it.

Francis curled his fingers into Arthur's short blond hair as he pulled back slightly, "Cheri," he whispered, "choose me. Choose me over all those princesses tomorrow. I . . . I won't be able to stand it if you marry one of them. I want you to be mine, and only mine. I'd die if it were any other way."

Arthur nodded, leaning up to kiss him, a harsher, desperate kiss than Francis's had been, "And what shall I do if they refuse? Will you come back for me? Take me to the Northern Kingdom?"

"I'll always come back for you," Francis replied, complete sincerity in his blue eyes. He trailed his hands down Arthur's chest, his fingers skimming the edges of the ornate belt buckle. But he paused there, as if asking for permission. And Arthur gave it with another, silent nod. He shivered slightly at the sudden cold of the August air, but Francis was warm against him, one arm still hooked around his back as he licked his fingers before placing them at the prince's entrance.

The younger blond arched up with a small hiss of pain, focusing his attention on the fairies that still danced and sang above the flowers. He wasn't uncomfortable with their presence; in fact, their song was soothing, promising him things to come that would be even more amazing and wonderful. But he doubted that, as Francis leaned over him again, making a path of light kisses up his neck as he levered Arthur's legs up. The prince squeezed his eyes shut, arms tangling beneath the other's as Francis slowly forced himself inside. Mixed in with the fairies song, there was the older blonde's whispered, comforting words near his ear as he pulled out, thrusting back inside.

To Arthur, it seemed as though people must be made like locks and keys. Each only fits perfectly with one other, made as a pair. Soul Mates. His heart raced as Francis took him, a feeling of completion washing over them both as they rocked. Arthur moaned when Francis angled himself different, hitting that special bundle of nerves deep inside. He arched up, his nails digging into the other's back as he repeated the motion with similar results. The prince cried out as he came against Francis's chest, his insides contracting around the older man, forcing him to follow suit, pouring hot seed out inside of him. "Oh cheri," Francis moaned, head against Arthur's shoulder as he came, "We have to stay like this, forever. It's too . . . Too perfect."

Arthur buried his head against Francis's neck, "Don't pull out," he whispered. "More, give me more."

They stayed amidst the fairies until dawn, the little creatures hovering over them, protecting them from sight and shielding the world from their sound. They would not let anyone come between the two while they were in their territory. The pair made love over and over, unable to pull away from each other or bear to part for more than a moment to rest. The light of the rising sun trickled over them when Arthur first noticed the fairies had vanished, unable to be seen in the glow of day. He breathed deeply against Francis's chest, tracing an invisible heart through the cooling sweat on his lover's body. "I have to go," he murmured regretfully, reaching for his clothes.

Francis opened his eyes from the half-sleep he'd been lost in, "Will they notice how long you've been gone?"

"Hopefully not," Arthur muttered, thinking of the scolding he'd get. Leaning over as he tugged on his clothes, he stroked the side of Francis's cheek, "But, don't worry. I'll tell them tonight. I'll tell them that you're the one I choose."

A small smile lit Francis's face, "Je t'aime, mon Arthur. I'll walk you back, okay?"

"That should be fine," Arthur smiled in return, waiting for Francis to dress. The older man twined their fingers together as they walked towards the castle, the two talking softly, heads bent together. So they didn't notice their surroundings, or the warnings of the now invisible fairies before Francis was suddenly grabbed under the arms and pulled away from the prince just outside the castle doors. Another guard grabbed Arthur in a similar fashion, holding him as he kicked and struggled, panicking as he saw the other guard bash Francis upside the head with the butt of his sword to silence him.

"So this is where you've been," a cold voice interrupted. Arthur jerked his head towards the sturdy oak doors, growling as he saw his mother and father step out into the dawn light. "With this . . . Filthy bastard no less," the king spat with distaste.

Arthur screamed at the use of the word, pulling against the unmoving hold the guard had on him, "How dare you say that! I chose him! I chose him father, over all the stupid princesses you picked for me! I chose him!"

A startled look crossed the king's face, "What are you saying, you useless fool?"

The prince smirked, "You can't marry me off now, because I already _belong_ to him. It's too late, father."

The king's gaze grew dark with fury, "How dare you . . . With another man, the bastard child of that fool Roman. You couldn't have made a worse choice." He waved a hand to the guard holding Francis, "Take him away to the dungeons, and send for his worthless father to come get him." He turned a searing glare at everyone in the area, "No one is to know of what you just said, Arthur. You will be confined to your room until next Wednesday, when you shall be married to princess Liech. And you will never speak of this again, or Francis von Bonnefoy will hang at the gallows for seducing the Crown Prince."

Arthur sucked in a horrified breath, "No! You can't do that! You know the laws, the permanent magic between two lovers! You're sentencing the kingdom to death! And to Liech, of all people!? The Northern Kingdom will rebel, Vash will come after the Nobility!" He jerked his head to the side, screaming in rage as Francis was dragged away, "You can't do this! Francis! Francis wake up damn it! Francis!"

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

*sigh* I'm splitting this arc into two chapters I guess, since my beta hates it when there's more than ten pages. :] but this way, I get to leave you in sorta- suspense. (cause if the first chapter said anything about the outcome of this, you already know how it'll all turn out.)

Anywho, this was one of my favorite chapters EVER to write. The only other one I liked this much was chapter 11 of Little Drop Of Healing, where Japan and America have to split. :D maybe I just like extreme angst? = 3= another flashbackish chapter next time too, with the conclusion to Arthur and Francis's part of the tale, and maybe the beginning of Ivan's. (depends on how much space Francis fills with awesome.)

Oh, and yes, this chapter is named after the song from Peter Pan two. I heard the newer version and thought of Arthur, and the scenes from this chapter. Which was perfect, considering that I'm trying to weave different fairytales throughout the story. And the line "Do you trust me?" comes from a Disney movie too. Do you know which one? :]


	3. Chapter 3

**One Last Fairytale: Silver Storm**

Arthur wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, and he barely moved. He lay face down on his bed, as if he was trying to suffocate himself. But he kept breathing because he knew it was useless to die now. There were guards outside the door, and below his window. Even if he did manage to escape, he'd be caught in a matter of seconds. The only time his door was unlocked was when his meals were brought in three times a day. And he'd already failed at trying to overpower the guards while their hands were full, he didn't' even make it to the end of the hall.

He'd heard through whispered words between his captors that High Prince Roman had retrieved Francis a few days ago, and that they'd already returned to the Southeastern Kingdom. Arthur's tears had dried up not long after and, without any food, crying only made him feel dizzy. So he'd stopped. There was no point in crying, because it wouldn't change anything. Instead, he just lay there, wishing that some cruel fate would take him since he was too scared to kill himself. Coward, why did he always have to be such a coward? If he was a bit stronger, a bit taller, a bit braver, he could have found a way out of this mess by now.

He sighed in defeat, wiping the tears from his eyes before they fell. His whole body hurt with the pain of separation. His father should have known better than to do this. The bonds between two fated lovers were strong enough to kill if the pair is torn apart. It could only be a matter of time before he withered away. He'd tried to eat after the first few days, only to throw it back up. He was physically unable to eat it. And his nights were as sleepless as they were lonely for the same reasons.

So it was that he didn't hear the commotion at first, lost in a state of semi-consciousness on his bed, waiting for death. He rose when he heard a startled cry from the guards below the window, and he got up to investigate, leaning against the locked glass. The guards were yelling something, pointing out across the field towards the stables. Arthur could make out a strange, flickering light before he heard the sound of hooves as the horses raced out of the building. It was on fire, the stallions whinnying in panic as they dashed across the grounds, the guards from around the castle save for the ones beneath his window chasing after them.

There was another noise outside his room, and he heard furious yells and the clash of steel. Blinking, he thought he recognized Elizaveta's voice, seconds before the door splintered and fell inwards, the lady herself pulling her rapier out of one of the guard's chest. Beside her, a man about the same age as Arthur with shoulder length blond hair kicked another guard between the legs, smirking as he keeled over.

"Shit," Elizaveta said, "we're not going to be able to get him out through the hall." She hissed between her teeth as she cut down another guard, motioning to her companion, "Vash, go get Liech. I'll hold them off over here." She turned towards Arthur as Vash fought his way down the hall, "And you, break that damn window."

Arthur gaped at her, reaching towards a chair, "What are you doing? My father will kill you when he finds out that you two are here!"

Elizaveta smiled warmly at him, "I'll kick his ass before that happens, Arthur. Don't worry about me. And Vash is set to kill right now, your idiot father taking Liech from him." She nodded towards the window again, "Quick now, or it'll be too late."

The blond gritted his teeth, hurling the chair at the window with all the force he could muster, and was rewarded with the satisfying crack of glass. He repeated the movement, this time shattering the pane entirely, running over to the sill to watch the glass rain down on the confused guards below. They raised their swords threateningly towards him, daring him to risk his life in the jump. Arthur hesitated, watching the spreading fire and the light of it on the blades with uncertainty.

Suddenly, there was a loud, familiar whinny as Sterling came barreling out of the flames, goring one of the guards through the stomach and tossing him aside like a rag doll. And seated on the unicorn's back, slicing through the other guard, was Francis. Tears welled up in Arthur's eyes as the older blond looked up at him, a confident smile on his face, "Jump, Arthur!"

And Arthur jumped, landing on Sterling in front of Francis, the other's arms wrapping around his waist as he dug his heals into the unicorn's sides, urging him into a canter. The prince glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Vash waiting beneath the window on horseback, another steed held behind him as Elizaveta jumped down from the window. The pair caught up to them a matter of moments, keeping pace with them. Liech was on the horse in front of her cousin, clinging to it with closed, fearful eyes.

They pulled up short at the drawbridge, hearts hammering in horror as they saw that it was already starting to rise to stop their escape. Francis motioned Vash forward, watching as his horse cleared the gap with a few feet to spare. Elizaveta went next, barely managing as the bridge raised father and farther from the shore. "Hang on tight, angleterre," Francis whispered near his ear, clutching Arthur against his chest as he kicked Sterling into a rapid gallop. The unicorn didn't falter at the slope of the wood, something no horse could accomplish. And Arthur closed his eyes as they hit air, hearing the frustrated yells of the wall top guards. He jolted, his teeth knocking together when they skidded onto the ground, barely missing the water.

There was no pause after they landed, the three steeds racing off into the fading light of day, narrowly avoiding the volley of arrows that followed in their wake.

It must have been long after midnight when they stopped, the horses shaking from exhaustion, and Sterling breathing heavily. Francis caught Arthur as he slipped weakly off the unicorn, concern in his eyes. "Oh cheri," he whispered, feeling the ribs sticking out on the other's body, "oh cheri, I was so worried I wouldn't make it in time."

Arthur sighed, reaching up to take Francis's face between his hands, "But you did. You came back for me." He could feel the same thinness on the other man as he leaned heavily against him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I never even got to say goodbye . . ." He leaned up and kissed Francis lightly, "Or 'I love you.'"

Francis smiled, "You can say it now, as many times as you'd like, angleterre. We're free now. We're free."

Two days later it began to snow. Arthur shivered when the flakes clung to his hair, but he was surprisingly content otherwise. Francis had his arm hooked around his waist, his grip stronger after they'd both eaten for the past few days. And he wasn't surrounded by the confining castle walls and overbearing, cruel parents. He leaned back against Francis's chest, tilting his head to kiss him, "Love you."

"Je t'aime," Francis replied softly.

Beside them, Vash rolled his eyes, "Okay, enough of that. We're about to cross the border into the Northern Kingdom." He glanced back at Elizaveta, "The High Princess should have already sent for Roderich, so he should meet us at the border."

As if on cue, out of the white of the falling snow came a small battalion of armed knights on horseback. The fact that they were armed at all startled Arthur, as it was unusual for anyone but the castle army to carry weapons inside the safety of their nation. Vash noticed this as the soldier approached, casting a wary glance behind them, "The princess must have gone through with it . . ."

"With what?" Arthur asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

"Succeeding from Hetalia," Vash said, reluctance in his voice. "After what we did, kidnapping you and Liech like that, there were only two choices. Hand over Francis and myself when it was requested, Roderich too, since a woman cannot be tried, or succeed to keep us safe. The princess chose our lives over Hetalia." He smirked slightly, "Not that I mind too much, you're father's an ass."

Arthur laughed, turning his gaze to watch Elizaveta trot her horse up towards the approaching battalion, nearly causing the man at the head to fall of his own mount when she tackled him. Vash led them forward, shaking hands with Roderich, "Good to see you made it. Did the King give you any trouble?"

Roderich hissed through his teeth, "You sent word for me just in time, friend. I heard just as they were literally on my doorstep. Lucky the Western Kingdom is right next door." He ran a hand nervously through his hair, "Except, now I've left High Prince Germania to deal with it. He's not going to like that."

Vash nodded, "I suppose, but he's stubborn, that guy. Not like his poop-headed little squirt. That kid told me he was the chicken king when I saw him last month. What is he, two now?"

Roderich rolled his eyes as he tried to untangle his wife from around his neck, "Something like that. And I think that Roman can hold his own for awhile too. And the castle will be out of their minds if they send armed forces after either. They'll loose all three Kingdoms like that."

"I hate to interrupt," Arthur cut in, "But it's cold, and I have no doubt that it'll only be hours until the castle army catches up to us, since you've now succeeded."

"Of course High Prince," Roderich bowed apologetically, "Right this way. We'll be able to see the fortress of the North Kingdom by tomorrow's dawn if we hurry." He situated Elizaveta behind him, tying her horse to his own as he led the company away into the snow.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Arthur wasn't sure what to think of the High Princess. She was tall, taller than most women he'd seen, and had short ash-blond hair pinned back with small barrettes. And then of course, she had enormous-

"Look at that rack," Francis said, mouth hanging open. Arthur growled and reached over to dig his nails into his lover's arm.

Vash rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh over the sound of Francis's pained chant of "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" He took a deep bow, doing his best to ignore the two, "Please excuse them, Princess." He motioned toward Arthur and Francis with a brief wave of his hand, the other hand firmly clasped around Liech's, "This is Prince Francis von Bonnefoy, and Crown Prince Arthur Kirkland. Gentlemen, this is High Princess Katyusha."

Katyusha curtsied, holding up the ends of her elaborate silver dress above the floor as she executed the movement gracefully, "Please to meet you, Crown Prince. The North Kingdom has been watching your progress with interest for years. I am pleased to welcome you into my home."

"Likewise, we are grateful for the shelter," Arthur replied politely, returning the bow. "We thank you for your hospitality. Without your aid, Francis and I would surely have died."

The High Princess nodded, "It was my pleasure. And besides, I had little choice in the matter as it was, with Liech chosen as your betrothed. It put the North Kingdom in a rough position, so it was the least we could do."

"A rough position?" Francis echoed.

"Yes," Katyusha admitted regretfully. "As I'm sure you know, the North Kingdom has always been ruled over by a _female_ heir, rather than a male. But as of this date, I only possess a single son. This officially makes Liech my heir until such time as I can produce a daughter," she waved the statement off with a hand as if it was beside the point. "Anyways, I'm being rude, discussing my own problems with you, Crown Prince. Let me show you to the dining hall, I'm sure you're famished by now."

It was only a few minutes later that Arthur found himself seated at a long table, mouth stuffed with food. Not wanting to appear rude, he swallowed and set his attention on the princess again, ignoring the indignant snort from his side as Francis noticed this. "You mentioned you had a son?" he prompted, curiosity getting the better of him. On the way to the dining hall, he had seen the pictures of all of the past High Princesses hung on the walls of the hallway. The lavender eyes and light hair seemed to be the most common trait in all of them, he wondered what such features would look like on a young boy.

At that moment, Francis let out a startled yelp, reaching a hand under the table and pulling out a small child by the back of the shirt. The boy struggled uselessly for a few seconds, before going limp, reaching down with small hands to try and stab Francis's leg again with the fork he held in a tight little fist. When Arthur laughed, the child looked up at him, revealing violet eyes beneath his silvery-brown hair.

Francis raised an annoyed eyebrow at the laughter, "This little demon tried to stab me!" he huffed, trying to make Arthur sympathize with him. But the younger man just laughed harder, clutching his sides.

Katyusha smiled from across the table, which made the small boy shudder, strangely enough, "Maybe he doesn't like you," she said pointedly, at which the child twisted in Francis's grip to poke his tongue out at him. She chuckled softly and waved a scolding finger at the boy, "But you should apologize, Ivan."

Ivan merely struggled some more, flipping to the side to bite Francis's arm.

Arthur choked with laughter as his lover screeched, and he reached over to take the boy from him before Francis decided to hit back. "I think I like you, little one," he said around giggles, trying to ignore the blazing blue eyes glaring at him. "You have my permission to poke him with your fork as much as you like," Ivan smiled at this. The prince returned the smile, catching sight of Francis's mortified face. "So, how old is he?" he asked, directing his attention to Katyusha again.

"One," Katyusha replied. "He's a terror already, isn't he?" However, at that moment, Ivan looked anything but, chewing absently on his fork as if trying to look as innocent as possible.

The prince smiled patting the child's head fondly, "There were never any children at the castle, so this is the first time I've held someone this small." He cast a sidelong questioning glance at Francis out of the corner of his eyes.

The older man smiled slightly, loving the look he received, and how he knew exactly what was being asked of him, "I was the youngest," he said quietly. "So I don't have very much experience with such things either. Except this past year when High Prince Germania would come over with his son."

"Ivan has a playmate a few years older than him, actually," Katyusha chimed in after a moment's thought, "The son of one of our servants."

"Yao!" Ivan piped up helpfully, his eyes glinting at the mention of the other child and surprising Arthur with his first word of the night.

As if called, a slightly older child wearing the long, red, elaborate robes of the nation over the sea came stumbling into the room. He had dark eyes and long black hair tied back in a ponytail and was draped loosely over his shoulder, something that made Arthur blink at first, mistaking him for a young girl. "Please excuse me ~ aru," the boy said, bowing deeply as he shuffled up to Arthur's side. "I'm sorry that the young master is causing trouble," he reached up and took the child off of Arthur's lap, tucking him against his shoulder, to which Ivan gurgled happily.

"No, no, he's no trouble at all," Arthur assured, smirking when Francis gasped and murmured a curse under his breath.

The boy merely nodded, "Well, it is past master Ivan's naptime, so I must be going then ~ aru."

Katyusha laughed as they watched him go, carrying the child that was already almost half his size, "That's the boy, Wang-Yao. He seems determined to become Ivan's sole caretaker, since the day he was born actually. I'd sent most of my maids out for errands that night, and Yao and his mother were the only ones left in the fortress. Oh, and Liech of course. But he's strangely devoted for a five-year-old."

Francis was lost in thoughts of revenge as he waited for Arthur to take a sip of his tea before he spoke. "I want kids," he proclaimed loudly, and snorted with laughter as he lover choked and spit out the drink all over the table.

Arthur rubbed his napkin over his face and rolled his eyes, "Then marry a girl, idiot."

The older blinked, as if he'd suddenly thought of something, but he didn't continue the conversation. Instead, he turned his gaze to the silver band on his middle finger, the ring that had once belonged to his mother, a small smile on his face.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

To Arthur, the most perfect thing was lying in a warm bed with Francis as snow drifted down outside the window. He traced small, meaningless paths across the other man's bare chest with the tips of his fingers. Exhaustion was creeping up on him, but he didn't sleep. Somehow, he was sure that this perfect, beautiful completion would simply vanish if he did. He sighed, shifting so that he rested between Francis's legs, his fingers continuing their pointless dance across skin.

Francis smiled, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Arthur's hair, "Cheri, I will still be here when you wake. Tomorrow, and every morning after. So get some sleep." The older man shook his head when Arthur pointedly ignored him, "Would you like to go for a walk, Angleterre?"

Arthur raised his head, emerald eyes shining with curiosity, "An adventure?"

"Always," Francis replied softly, giving his lover a light kiss on the forehead before he wiggled out from under him and swung out of bed, "Now grab your coat, mon Arthur, it's a bit chilly outside."

Arthur laughed, jumping out of bed and grabbing his jacket off of a chair by the door as he followed the other enthusiastically.

It wasn't like they _had_ to sneak around, they were allowed in the fortress after all. But it just made it seem more fun, their fingers intertwined and their voices coming in near silent murmurings as they made their way up stairs and down halls. Arthur had assumed that Francis had stayed here before, the way he led with an air of confidence, like someone who knew his way around. The prince shook slightly when he remembered the last time they'd walked like this, how Francis had been pulled away from him. He tightened his grip on his lover's hand, anxiety getting the better of him.

The older man blinked, returning the squeeze with an understanding smile, "I'll never let you go, cheri. Ne vous inquiétez pas." He led Arthur along another hall, and then up another flight of stairs, opening the solid wooden door at the top.

Snow was floating in through the stone window when they entered the tower, and Arthur ran up to it to gaze out at the white blanketed world. "I still can't believe it," he whispered quietly, leaning heavily against the sill as he reached out to catch some snowflakes against his outstretched palm, watching as they melted away within seconds. "I never thought I'd actually be here, in the North Kingdom . . ." He turned slightly as Francis wrapped his arms around the prince's shoulders from behind, "I never thought it'd be someone like you who'd save me either," he added.

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" Francis asked incredulously, his head resting on Arthur's shoulder.

"Both," the younger man smirked. He cast a glance out over the snow again, slight unease prickling at the corners of his mind. "I'm scared, Francis," he whispered, gripping the stone windowsill until his knuckles turned white, "This calm can't last . . ."

Francis tightened his hold, "Je t'aime, Arthur. Don't let such things linger on your mind." He felt Arthur's hands raise up to clasp his own, an unsteady, uncertain grip. The older man lifted his head from the prince's shoulder, looking out at the snow covered world. He blinked, catching sight of something in the darkness, "Cheri, look."

Arthur followed the movement of Francis's hand to where the man was pointing at the sky and gasped. Thin, waving trails of light were beginning to snake across the dark night sky. They danced over the stars in blues and purples and golden-greens, twisting almost like flames, but the next moment rippling like water. He felt Francis's hand slip out from beneath his, fingers grazing over his palm before sliding cold metal over the second to last finger on his right hand. The prince turned his gaze away from the lights, staring down at the silver band that glinted on his finger with a small smile.

The older blond shifted his arms down to wrap around Arthur's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. "We . . . We don't need any of that official merde, cheri. After all, it was laws like that that tried to tear us apart," he murmured. Arthur caught his hand and turned it palm up, taking the Nobility family ring from his left hand and placing it on Francis's right ring finger.

"Can we just stay here . . . Forever?" the prince whispered, his voice almost breaking as he slid the ring down Francis's finger.

"As long as you wish, cheri," Francis replied.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Weeks blurred into months. And months passed into years.

Arthur rolled over onto his stomach, reaching over to run his fingers over the light stubble Francis had grown. He smirked as the other laughed in his sleep at the small touch. Sitting up, he groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him, and he swallowed hard to keep from gagging. He yawned, climbing drowsily out of bed and pulling some clothes on before he stumbled out into the hall. As he walked, he took a moment to admire the silver ring on his finger, a feeling of contentment washing over him. Then another half-gag as he struggled to keep his stomach intact.

There was a patter of excited footsteps behind him before small arms latched onto his leg, almost making him fall over.

"Arthur! Arthur! Hurry, come quick!" Ivan exclaimed, the seven year old practically climbed up the prince's leg.

The blond wobbled, arms waving wildly as he struggled to keep his balance before he bent down, prying Ivan off and hoisting him up and into his arms. "All right, all right, calm down and take a deep breath," He waited as Ivan sucked in a mouthful of air before he continued, "Good. Now tell me what all the fuss is about."

"Mommy! Mommy's having the baby!" Ivan screamed, letting the breath out, hands thrown in the air as if to emphasize how important this was.

The prince's eyes widened, "Really? Merde. Where's your little friend then, Yao? Ivan, go get him and tell him to wake Francis, Elizaveta and Liech too. Yao's mother has her own hands full with his new brother at the moment. And it's too damn early in the morning for the maids to have arrived yet." He set Ivan down on the ground, wrapping the scarf tighter around the child's neck so he wouldn't trip on the ends before allowing him to dash off in the opposite direction. The blond turned down the other hall, picking up the pace after the first few steps. This was not a good morning to be feeling sick.

Francis had Ivan sitting in his lap a few hours later, hands over the boy's ears and wishing he had a pair of earplugs for himself as he sat with his back against the door. He could hear all of the unpleasant, pained noises from the inside of the room, and was having a hard time ignoring them. But with Roderich and Vash out on a border patrol he was left to play guard-dog while practically everyone else was inside the room. But he preferred staying outside as it was, thank you very much.

Ivan had his face buried in the front of Francis's shirt, as if the hands weren't enough to block out the noise. A rare occurrence, since it was always Arthur the child ran to when he was frightened, and Francis continued to receive glares and stabbing sessions with forks. But Arthur was in the room with the High Princess.

The blond turned his attention back to the child, making soft shushing noises and humming in the back of his throat as he curled his legs up and tucked Ivan fully against his chest, trying to block out the worst of the screams. If he really thought about it, Ivan was much more of his and Arthur's child than Katyusha's. The High Princess was almost always away, their nation now being separate from Main Hetalia. He'd lost count of the number of times Ivan had slept between them, rather than in his own bed. The child had been forbidden from sleeping in Yao's since day one. And his real father was taking care of one of the border villages by the ocean, governing the trade with the country Yao had come from. Francis doubted he'd ever met his son.

He blinked as he realized that the hall and the room beyond had grown eerily silent, and a spark of dread coursed through him. The moment passed in a split second, the silence filled with the sound of a small baby's first cry. He grinned, lowering his hands from Ivan's ears. "Ivan, listen!" At that moment, they were knocked forward as Arthur flung the door open, "It's a girl!" the prince laughed happily, pulling them off the ground with a bemused look as if he couldn't understand how they ended up face down on the floor. Ivan was transferred between the two men as Arthur whisked the child into the room, setting him down beside his mother's bed.

Katyusha smiled at her son, holding out the wailing bundle to him, "Here, hold you little sister, Ivan."

Ivan bit his lip but complied, taking the baby into his arms as Arthur sat behind him, watching him in case he stumbled. The child chewed at his lip as he cradled the little girl in his arms, and nearly dropped her when she suddenly grabbed his scarf with tiny fists and stopped crying. Blue eyes opened and she gripped his treasured scarf with renewed fervor.

"She likes you," Arthur said, noticing the unease in Ivan's posture.

"She's creepy," Ivan and Francis muttered in unison.

Katyusha laughed tiredly as she took her daughter from the older child, "Now now, don't say such things about future High Princess Natalia. I'm sure she'll be a strong and fierce ruler for our land."

Francis shuddered, and Ivan turned and grabbed onto Arthur's leg as if truly afraid of his new sibling. Katyusha smiled again, waving a hand at Francis, "Francis, please take Ivan and Yao to get some breakfast, I'm sure they're half starved by now. I need to speak with Arthur for a moment."

The Crown Prince opened his mouth in nervous protest, but shut it at a glare from Elizaveta across the bed. Francis left without a word, Ivan in his arms and Yao trailing behind him. Elizaveta leaned her hands on the mattress as soon as the other man's footsteps faded away, her eyes furious, "When were you going to tell us that you were sick!" she burst out in fury.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"You left three times during the birth," Liech said quietly from beside Elizaveta, "we heard you throwing up."

The blond hissed between his teeth in frustration, "W-well, maybe that was because it's kinda gross to watch something like that . . ."

"Liar," Elizaveta muttered crossly, leaping over the bed to stand at his side.

"It's really none of your concern!" Arthur snarled, feeling threatened by her viridian glare. His arm curled over his stomach, as though he was protecting something, his own eyes blazing, daring her to make a move.

She took half a step back, the lines on her forehead creasing in worry. She had ever seen her cousin act so defensive, even Francis was only half as bad at his worst of times, and that was if you really goaded him. "What the hell Arthur, can't you see we're trying to help you?"

"I can take care of myself!"

Katyusha let out an audible sigh, reaching over to slap Arthur across the face, "Calm down," she said softly, smiling at the shocked look she received, "And tell me how long it's been since you figured it out."

Arthur turned pale and bit his lip until blood pooled in his mouth, "Last week," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

"You know how rare something like this is, don't you?" Katyusha prompted gently, "It's because you're one of the Nobility. Consider it a survival of the bloodline effect. But it could also be because of your powers with the fairies for all I know." She smiled as he swallowed, his fingers splaying out uncertainly over his stomach.

"What am I supposed to tell Francis?" he whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I can't tell him something like this . . ."

Elizaveta couldn't take being left out of the loop anymore, "Eeeeyyaaaaarrggghhh!" she screamed, throwing her hands in the air, "Tell me first you fucking idiot! What the hell are you talking about?!?!" She ignored the way Liech covered her mouth with a gasp at the foul language, the brunette's eyes boring holes into Arthur's head.

The prince turned his gaze awkwardly towards the ceiling, "Umm . . . Well, how to say this . . . I . . . I guess it must be two months? Yeah, that sounds right; I'm not fat yet after all. I guess you could say I'm almost done with my first trimester?"

His cousin made a strange face, "Huh?"

"Pregnant," Katyusha supplied helpfully, chuckling at the annoyed look Arthur shot her, "He's saying that he's pregnant."

Elizaveta stared at him a moment, before a single syllable escaped her, "Ew."

"Thanks," Arthur muttered sarcastically, "It's not that great for me to think about either. How it's going to work is beyond me."

"Are you going to tell Mister Bonnefoy?" Liech whispered from the other side of the bed, blushing.

Arthur raised a characteristic eyebrow, wondering whether or not to remind her that he was also called "Mister Bonnefoy" now. But she'd only apologize instead of get the joke. "I . . ."

Elizaveta made up her mind very quickly, grabbing her cousin by the arm and not waiting for him to finish the sentence before she dragged him out into the hall and down to the dinning room. Once there, she pushed him forward, watching with satisfaction as the nearly tripped over a chair in the process before coming to a halt in front of Francis. The older man blinked up at him owlishly, halfway through the process of trying to force Ivan to eat a spoonful of peas.

Francis stood up, noticing the tears in the corners of his husband's eyes, "Oh cheri!" he exclaimed, worry lacing his voice, "Cheri, cheri, cheri! What's wrong?"

Arthur leaned forward and pressed his face against Francis's chest, choking back a sob, "I'm sorry . . ."

"Shhh . . . Whatever are you talking about, mon Arthur?" Francis murmured against his ear, wrapping him in his arms once he noticed that Elizaveta had successfully distracted the children sitting at the table. The reply was only another strangled sob, and Francis hugged him closer.

"Tell him right now before I do!" Elizaveta yelled over the noise of Ivan refusing to eat the peas, even with Yao's encouragement.

"I'm fucking pregnant, all right!" Arthur cried.

Francis blinked, "Ummm . . . What?"

"You heard him," Elizaveta sighed flippantly, "And he's not lying either. He threw up three or four times just this morning. And he's practically bawling cause he thinks you'll hate him or something else stupid like that. Tell him you're not mad, or he'll freak out in about ten seconds."

"I don't hate you, cheri," Francis said instantly, leaning down to kiss the other, "Though how something like this happened makes my brain hurt, I admit." He grinned, seeing that Arthur had lapsed into hiccups now, "So, what are we going to name it?"

"Sh-shut up! That's not something to discuss now you frog!"

"If it's a girl, I like the name Antoinette. But if it's a boy, I like Alfred," he continued as if not having heard at all.

"Alfred?! That's a horrid name!" Arthur gasped out, trying his best to stifle another outburst of hiccups as he wiped the tears from his face, "Besides, if it's a boy we're naming it Matthew! It sound's much more dignified."

"Or girly," Francis added with a smirk. He reached out to press a hand to his lover's belly with a laugh, "Oh-ho! Look, you've already got a little bulge here!"

"Are you calling me fat?!" Arthur screamed.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes as she watched him, "Why he was so worried about telling him is beyond me. I'd be more worried _for_ Francis. Arthur's already starting to show a hormone imbalance . . ."

"I am not!" Arthur retorted, turning a glare in her direction, which she returned with equal force.

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Lalalala. I have Mpreg in Notes of a Love Song too, but I haven't actually written any of that yet, so this was weird to write. :] and Katyusha is a tiny bit OC, but I based her more on how she was when she was little, scheming, rather than the fraidy-cat she is now. Remember how she gave Russia the scarf, in exchange for ownership of some of his land? Like that.

The next chapter will have the conclusion (I know I said that last time) to the main part of Arthur and Francis's story as the North Kingdom comes crashing down around them. Literally. Then Ivan and Alfred will pick up the story. :D Yay!

And here's a little layout for how things work in this fic. From the people highest in power, down. Another one will be posted when we return to present times. Their places of origin/ places they have power over are there too. Only the characters who are currently born/have been mentioned are listed in this one.

Past (highest to lowest)

- High King and Queen (Main Hetalia)

- Crown Prince Arthur (Main Hetalia)

- High Prince Germania (West Kingdom), High Prince Roman (Southeast Kingdom), High Princess Katyusha (North Kingdom)

- Antonio (Southeast Kingdom), Gilbert (West Kingdom), Natalia (North Kingdom)

- Ivan (North Kingdom), Liech (North Kingdom)

- Vash (North Kingdom), Elizaveta (Main Hetalia)

- Roderich (West Kingdom)

- Francis (Southeast Kingdom)

- Yao (Nation across the sea), Kiku (Nation across the sea)

- Commoners

Hope this is helpful in understanding some of their relationships and such.


	4. Chapter 4

**One Last Fairytale: Numb**

_Yao looked down at the gentle tug of small hands on the hem of his robes and smile. "What is it Kiku? I told you that you could go play with Alfred and the others today," he reminded gently, reaching down the ruffle the soft dark hair of his younger brother before turning back to the laundry he'd been folding._

_Kiku merely blinked up at him with determined, childish eyes, "But . . . Aniki, I have a question," he pouted._

_The older brother laughed at the look he received, putting down the laundry to scoop Kiku up into his lap instead, "All right, all right. What did you want to know?"_

"_Alfred said . . ." There was a slight, unsure, hesitating air about the way that Kiku paused that made Yao's stomach drop, "Alfred said . . . That we're not supposed to talk about the Old North Kingdom."_

"_The young prince is correct in saying that," Yao whispered, hoping in vain to end the conversation right there._

"_Why?" It was the question every small child asks about things they don't comprehend, "Why can't we talk about it? We can talk about the North Kingdom, but not the . . . The _Old_ North Kingdom. Why?"_

_Yao sighed and undid his long, tied back hair, letting it fall freely onto his shoulders, "Kiku, this really isn't something a three year old should hear. It's not a pretty tale."_

"_I want to know," Kiku whispered. "Alfred says . . . Alfred says that we can't talk about cause it makes his daddies sad. I want to know why."_

"_It does make the Kings sad," Yao confirmed, sitting back a bit, "I wasn't lying when I said it wasn't a pretty tale. It's the darkest part of the country's history, and it's still too fresh in King Arthur's mind for him to deal with." He sighed as Kiku tilted his head pleadingly, "Kiku, listen, what I am about to tell you can never, _never_, be repeated. Not to Alfred, not to the Kings, and more than anyone, not to Ivan, do you understand?"_

"_I won't tell."_

"**When I was a little child**

**And I was afraid**

**But a gentle someone always came**

**To drown my tears**

**To sweet sleep my fears**

**And to give a kiss goodnight.**

**But now I am grown**

**And these years have shown**

**The winds upon how life goes.**

**But it's dark and it's late**

**So I wonder and wait**

**Till the fighting draws to a close."**

Francis took in a heavy breath, swirling his fingers across the top of the sudsy bath water. Turning he leaned over the side of the tub to flick some of the soap at the blond sitting on a chair a few feet away with a laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes and wiped the stuff off of his cheek, "You're immature, you know that?"  
The older man smirked, "No more so than you, cherie. And you're just jealous that you can't join me in my bath time."

"I am jealous," Arthur deadpanned, "You know what a pain it is to have to get by with just sponge baths? I want to take a nice long soak."

Francis laughed again, "Well, in all senses, I guess I should apologize, right cherie? One does not conceive a baby by themselves after all," he smirked, making an obscene motion with his fist and index finger, to which Arthur merely glared.

"Right you are, but one person alone has to suffer through the actual carrying and bearing of the child," he snorted. "And believe you me; there won't be any more 'conceiving' again for a long time."

The shocked look on Francis's face at this statement made Arthur grin, "B-but why not?" Francis gaped, "That's a horrible punishment cherie! Besides, I'm already in withdrawal as it is!"

"You can't go into withdrawal from lack of sex," Arthur muttered, "You'll live."

"Cherie . . ." Francis wined, reaching out of the bath pleadingly, "Don't be so cruel."

Arthur sighed and leaned into his touch, kissing him lightly, "We'll see. Anyways, what was that song you were singing?"

Francis's smile returned, "Oh, that? It's an old song that my mother used to sing to me when I was little. I thought we could sing it for the baby one day."

A small smile crept across Arthur's face at this idea, "That would be nice. And speaking of, have you thought of any better boy names yet?"  
"I already told you, I'm dead set on Alfred," Francis said irritably, "Can't you take me seriously for once?"  
"No, because I already told you that I don't like that name. It sounds more like the name of someone's butler rather than a child," Arthur muttered sourly as he stood up, "And now that I think about it, I promised to help Elizaveta with some sewing today, so have fun with your bath."

Francis stuck out his tongue, "Bleh, you are so not fun when you're pregnant."

"Remind yourself that next time you want to do it in such a weird position," Arthur smirked, closing the door behind him. He really did have somewhere to be, although he probably would have gotten bored sooner or later hanging out in the washroom anyways. Elizaveta seemed insistent upon the idea that he wear dresses now instead of normal boy's clothes as he got bigger. And then she had reminded him of the fact that she technically still had complete free reign of his wardrobe even now.

He'd agreed, but only while they were doing meaningless chores or something else. God knows he'd rue the day Francis ever caught him in a dress. So he made his way down the hall as slowly as possible when faced with such situations. Frankly, procrastination was his favorite pastime when it came to Elizaveta's evil schemes. He'd seen Roderich slipping about the castle in just such a manner on many occasions similar to this. No point in dying sooner than you had to after all.

It was the strange, and out of place thud that first told Arthur that something was wrong. The sound was far off, but he could feel the castle tremble slightly beneath is feet. His hand went to wall as a second unearthly tremor shook the stones and an audible boomed echoed through the corridors. Arthur shifted and stared back at the hall to his right leading to the far end of the castle, worry growing as a third noise shook the fortress stones.

The scream was what spurned the blond into action, his heart pounding with fear and horrible realization as Ivan's terrified wail echoed down the hall. So Arthur ran, trying his best to maintain his balance as the castle walls began to crack and the structure shivered dangerously beneath him. And he screamed too, crying out the names of people, trying to warn, begging for help.

"Francis! Roderich! Vash! The castle . . ." He stumbled and fell as the fortress creaked and groaned, his eyes falling upon a nearby window and the scene outside, "The castle is being attacked!"

He passed more windows, the image never changing. He recognized the blue and red flags of Main Hetalia, the horse-drawn catapults and battering rams. He even recognized his father's most prized knight at the head of the army, giving the order just before a volley of flaming arrows hit the walls. Arthur kept running, searching for the source of the scream from before, praying that he wasn't too late now that it could no longer be heard.

The blond had to break down the doors to the High Princess's chamber after he found that it wouldn't open willingly. It was there that he found Ivan, crouched in the far corner. The child was sobbing softly, one had to his head, blood dribbling out from between his fingers, and the other wrapped tightly around Natalia. Arthur had to push passed a mound of rubble caved in from the roof to reach them, making a comforting shushing sound as he lifted Ivan up into his arms. The boy merely sniffed, burying his face against the other's shoulder.

"Ivan," Arthur whispered, gazing around the room as he made his way to the door again, Natalia whimpering as he tucked her into the crook of his arm close to his chest, "Ivan, where is your mother?" Ivan hiccupped and pointed a shaky hand to the piles of rubble where Katyusha's bed would have been. Arthur swallowed in horror, looking away as he noticed the layer of blood seeping out from underneath the stones. He tightened his grip on both children and made his way out into the hall before running at full speed again.

He skidded out into the hall he'd come from near the bathroom and pushed open the door, "Francis!" There was no answer, and Arthur felt his heart stop as he realized that his husband was no longer there. The blond backed out of the room, skidding down the hall in a different direction as the castle rumbled and shook ominously again. They had to get out, before he went to look for Francis, he at least had to get the children out of the castle safely.

"Yao," Ivan spoke up suddenly, turning his head from where it still rested on Ivan's shoulder, "Yao, where's Yao?"

"Shhh . . ." Arthur hushed, taking a set of stairs two at a time until he reached the first floor, "Shh, he'll be okay. We need to get you out right now, that's all that matters."

"No!" Ivan started to squirm in his arms, eyes wide and his voice rising to a hysterical tone, "No! We can't leave without Yao! We can't leave without Yao!"

Arthur hissed between his teeth as he reached a large stone statue of a bear, ignoring Ivan's screams as he pressed his back against it and shoved it aside. An arrow crashed through a windowpane behind him, catching a tapestry overhead on fire. Slowly, he lowered the children into the passage that had been revealed behind the statue, "Wait here, okay? If I'm not back by the time you can count to five hundred, follow this tunnel outside. Understand, Ivan?" The flames were beginning to lick up the walls and snake along the floor now, and he gazed around for a path that would take him to Francis.

A cold laugh echoed down the hall, and Arthur turned to see a man walking through the fire towards them, and he pushed the children deeper into the passage. "Well well, if it isn't the Crown Prince who caused our kingdom nothing but hell," the sword the man was carrying rose to just above Arthur's navel and the blonde growled in rage, trying to back up into the tunnel, "You seem to be expecting, from what I've heard. Our orders are to gut you and bring the fetus back, isn't that lovely?" The sword flicked dangerously close to Arthur's stomach, and he cut his hand in a desperate attempt to block it.

The man merely laughed again, raising the weapon with every intention of carrying out his orders. At least, until his blade was suddenly blocked by another.

"Oh cherie, that was cutting it a tad too close," Francis hissed as he tossed the soldier's blade aside in one swift movement. He turned towards his lover, a small smile on his face, "Now, get those kids down the tunnel, I'll be right behind you."

Arthur nodded, backing up into the passage as he heard the sound of more soldiers approaching. But he didn't go more than a few steps, watching horrified as the first man retrieved his sword, motioning towards his companions. Francis parried off the first few blows with ease, laughing as he did so. Arthur had often admired his husband's skill with the blade, but now, it was not out of admiration that he watched: it was absolute fear. Francis was completely surrounded.

The younger blond had no time to warn him, his vision obscured by the smoke and fire as another team of soldiers came down the other end of the hall. Blood hit the prince's face and chest as a sword ripped through Francis's stomach from behind, and he screamed.

The older man gasped in surprise, coughing up a mouthful of blood as the blade was withdrawn. He stumbled briefly, blue eyes locking with Arthur's for one swift, determined moment before his hands found the statue. And Arthur continued to scream as the passage entrance was suddenly sealed shut; Francis vanished into the turmoil inside the castle.

Ivan whimpered, and grabbed Arthur's arm, "We have to go . . . We have to go," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes again. "We have to . . . Arthur . . ."

Arthur wasn't sure how he'd managed to get outside the castle when he found himself beside the river. Ivan was tucked securely in one arm and Natalia nestled in the folds of his shirt so that he could keep one hand on the wall. The light of the fortress was behind them, ten times brighter than on a normal night as the flames spread across it as they crawled into the outside air. The prince shivered with the cold of the October evening, clutching Ivan closer to him. Blood was on his hands from where he'd rubbed it off the front of his shirt and face, and he stared at it, unseeing, for what must have been hours, the castle crumbling and collapsing in flames on the outskirts of his vision.

Francis would come soon, right? Any minute now. That's what he kept telling himself as the night grew darker and darker. He'd promised to meet them. He'd promised. But as dawn slowly began to break, Ivan half asleep in his arms and Natalia at his chest, he realized what must have happened. They were alone. It was the sound of hooves met his ears that snapped him back to reality as the sun broke over the horizon, and for the briefest of moments, he thought it was Francis riding the horse that approached them out of the snow that had started to fall. He was dismayed to see that it wasn't, but immensely relieved at the same time. The two figures that emerged from the snow were Vash and Liech, Sterling tied behind them.

Liech had cried in relief upon seeing them, jumping down and hugging Ivan and Natalia, then Arthur. She wiped tears from her eyes as she told them how the entire castle had gone up in flames, and they thought no one else had made it out. Pushing back blond locks from her eyes, she pointed to the child climbing down from the unicorn's saddle.

Yao was covered in dried blood, and he stumbled a bit as he approached them, relief clear in his dark eyes. Ivan didn't open his eyes from the comatose-like sleep that he'd fallen into when Wang-Yao knelt down beside him, shaking from exhaustion and emotion. "We thought . . . You were all dead. Katyusha . . ." He whispered, voice breaking.

"I know," Arthur whispered, placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "Yao, give Kiku to me."

Vash looked mildly surprised when Yao unraveled the baby from the folds of his long robes, revealing his brother without so much as a scratch on Kiku's face. "Mama . . . Mama told me to keep him safe. I kept him safe."

"You did good," Liech whispered, taking both Natalia and Kiku from Arthur.

The blond lowered his gaze to Ivan again, holding the sleeping child close, "I'm not going until Francis gets here," he muttered, taking note of Vash's growing impatience.

The older man narrowed his eyes, "We can't stay Arthur. And believe me, I want to too. I was there when the west wing of the castle collapsed with Roderich and Elizaveta still inside. I want to stay and find them, at least their bodies, but we'll get killed by your father's men if we linger much longer." He was silent a moment when Arthur didn't reply before he spoke again, "Arthur, we have to leave before they find us again. We can go to the West Kingdom; it's our best bet for now. We'll alert the Southeast too." He glanced at Arthur with regret clear in his eyes, "We won't let them have died in vain. I'm sure Roman will want revenge because of Franci-"

"Francis isn't dead!" Arthur shrieked, startling Ivan awake, "He's not dead! He's not!" He shook his head furiously, wiping away the tears that had started to fall, "I'd know if he was dead! He's not! He's . . . He's not dead . . ."

The taller man's gaze turned cold, "Arthur, shut up and know when you're wrong. The entire castle burned down. You think I don't know how you feel? Katyusha is gone! Roderich and Elizaveta are gone! They're all gone, Arthur, Francis too, so just shut up so we can get the hell out of here before we join them!"

Liech looked startled, wrapping her arms around Arthur's shoulders as he wailed and screamed, "Vash! Don't say that!" She made a shushing noise, trying to comfort the prince, "Arthur, Arthur, please, calm down. You'll hurt the baby. Arthur, please, the baby . . ."

Arthur repressed another sob, burying his head against her shoulder. No, he knew it couldn't be true. If Francis was dead, he'd know. He'd know . . . He had to keep telling himself that, or he'd die as well.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Arthur wasn't sure when they had arrived in the West Kingdom, only that they had. He vaguely recalled cold and sleepless nights with Ivan tucked against his side and Natalia at his chest. He remembered carrying every one of the children at some point or another as their eyes drooped with exhaustion or when they wailed with hunger. On the second night, he and Liech had stayed awake with Kiku and Natalia, tired midnight hours crushing up and adding warm water to whatever food they had so the babies wouldn't starve.

As if he'd been expecting them, High Prince Germania met them on the outskirts of the West Kingdom. His long blond hair was behind his back with a single thin braid over his right ear. He was leaning on the battlements of what appeared to be a freshly built wall when he saw them, and he called for the gates to be opened as he rushed down to meet them.

"Been waiting for us?" Vash joked sarcastically, stepping down off his horse.

"Don't be stupid," Germania drawled, "The Fires of the North Kingdom could be seen from here." He sighed, running a hand through his golden hair, exhaustion clear on his face, "I was hoping there would be more survivors than this."

Vash's eyebrows furrowed together, "Yes . . ." He stared at the cobbled stone road at his feet, "But we did save all three heirs to the North. And the Crown Prince too. That's at least something to be grateful for, isn't it?"

Germania raised his eyes to where Arthur sat with Ivan and Natalia on Sterling, "_The_ Crown Prince? Crown Prince Arthur?" The younger blond merely nodded in conformation, emerald eyes glazed and unseeing.

Vash glanced at him sympathetically before turning his attention back to Germania, "As you can see by our company, Francis von Bonnefoy is not among us. It's . . . Rather hard on him. And besides a few words to Liech and Ivan, he hasn't spoken at all."

"Understandable," Germania whispered. "But, am I correct in assuming that my nephew and his wife . . ."

The North soldier's face darkened, "The whole castle went up in flames and crumbled to the ground," he said simply, directing his eyes at the stone road again. "I . . . I saw Roderick and Elizaveta disappear beneath the ash and rubble." Taking notice of the freshly built wall whose gates they passed through, he changed the subject, "When did you build that?"

Germania smirked slightly, "A week or so ago. Took awhile, but we made it in record time. It stretches all the way around the West Kingdom." His eyes narrowed, "We had no choice but to build it really, the Kings gone fucking insane, Vash. He was threatening Roman a month or so ago and it's all gone downhill from there." He motioned to the wall sadly, "Right now, that's the only thing keeping the West Kingdom from being burned to the ground like the North was."

Arthur had looked up at the mention of Francis's father and his own in the same context, "What did he want with Prince Roman?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse from days of misuse.

The High Prince raised an eyebrow, knowing he'd caught Arthur's attention, "You wouldn't have heard, I 'spose, since the North Kingdom succeeded. But the Southeast is sheltering a pair of very special twins right now. Twins your father wants to kill more than anything else besides yourself and your husband." He glanced at the Crown Prince, hoping he hadn't struck a nerve before continuing to explain, "Those twins are what the royalty would call _half-blood_. Half lower chain Nobility, half commoner. A servant girl was the mother, last name Bonnefoy. The sister of Francis's mother." Germania sighed, "I guess you could say your loon of a father is taking everything out on the two because of the similarities and relation to Francis."

The Crown Prince clenched his teeth, furry clear in his emerald eyes, "Just because of their blood?" He let out a snarl, "Blood is nothing. Francis . . ." Arthur closed his eyes, clenching his fist, as if he could see something that they could not, "Francis's blood was the same color as mine. And so was Ivan's. Yao's too. It's all the same." He opened his eyes again, determination flaring in them, "There will be no more unnecessary bloodshed because of class. I won't have it."

Germania smirked as if he'd only been waiting for such words, "Are you suggesting we act, Crown Prince?"

Arthur smiled, the first, though small, smile in days, "If you'll have me, I'd like to change the way Hetalia is governed. But in order to do so, I think I need to take the throne that should rightfully be mine, don't you agree?"

"But of course, _King_ Arthur," Germania said smoothly, "We've only been waiting for your return." He turned to one of the guards following them, "Go now, ride to the Southeast and alert Roman. The King has returned."

Arthur nodded to the guard gratefully as he dashed off towards the stables before turning to Vash, "You'll help us, won't you Vash?" he asked hesitantly.

Vash bit his lip, "Idiot. I have friends and a High Princess to avenge, of course I'll help. I want to get rid of the Nobility once and for all." He held out his hand for Arthur to take, "Just promise that I get to be the one to gut that piss-head of a father of yours."

"I won't be going into battle, so feel free," Arthur laughed.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

To Ivan, the West Kingdom castle was even larger than the North Kingdom's, even though there was much less land around it, and had a lot less people inside it. Arthur was busy planning a war with High Prince Germania and Vash, and Liech and Yao had their hands full caring for Kiku and Natalia. So Ivan was exploring since there seemed to be nothing better to do.

He held little remorse for what had happened to his mother. In truth, he had grown up hardly ever seeing her aside from the few months after Natalia was born. But inside, his heart still pounded with fear as he recalled the roof of Natalia's room collapsing. How he'd snatched her sister from her cradle just before the wood and stone crushed it. And more than anything else, he'd wanted to cry when he looked at Arthur, the blonde's glazed eyes that still retained hope for the husband that had vanished into the flames.

So he wandered down the eerily empty halls, feeling the edges of tapestries and curtains and tracing the patterns on intricate wooden doors. Half of him wanted to just go and pester Yao anyways, but he knew that the older boy would eventually snap under the strain of looking after both him and Kiku. And he didn't want to see that. So he'd stay out of the way for now.

He stopped with his hand against one of the doors, turning slightly as he noticed the noises from inside. But that wasn't the reason he'd paused, there had been noises in some of the other rooms too after all. Maids talking and butlers preparing trays of food for the castle's guests. This time however, he could swear what he heard was a . . . A chicken?

Slowly, he cracked the door open, peering inside cautiously. He wasn't sure if he should laugh at what he saw, or be extremely disappointed that it wasn't a chicken that was making that noise. Another boy who seemed to be about the same age as him was jumping spastically around the room and flailing his arms, making chicken noises of all things. He turned as Ivan opened the door, revealing silver-white hair and startling crimson eyes. The boy paused mid step, arms still half raised in the air and only looking slightly startled that someone had discovered him doing something so weird.

"What, you've never seen someone act like a chicken before?" he asked sarcastically, lowering his hands to his hips.

"No," Ivan said quietly, "I haven't."

The other boy raised a skeptic eyebrow as if he couldn't quite believe that, "Oh." He sat down on the floor, patting the empty space of carpet in front of him, an indication for Ivan to sit, and he did. "I haven't seen you around before," the albino stated, pointing out the obvious.

"I just got here," Ivan deadpanned, crossing his legs.

The scarlet eyed child stared at him curiously for a moment smiling, "Okay then. Let's play!"

Ivan blinked, "Play?"

"Uhmm . . . Yeah. Play," the albino snorted, standing up and holding out a hand towards the other child, "Ever heard of it?" He laughed at the confused look Ivan gave him, "Don't worry then, we'll play together. I'll show you how!" He grinned, "What's your name?"

"Ivan."

The other boy smile, taking Ivan's hand and pulling him up, "I'm Gilbert." He pointed dramatically at the ceiling with his other hand, "Now, we're gonna play the Bird Game!"

"Bird Game?" Ivan echoed. The complete truth was that he'd really never done anything close to playing before. His mother had been training him in the proper mannerisms of the North Kingdom Royalty, or having a special instructor teach him how to use a sword properly. When he was with Yao, they would read together underneath the kitchen counters in quiet whispers. But that wasn't playing; Arthur and Francis read him stories too. There hadn't been any real "playing."  
Gilbert nodded, "You know, like I say the name of a bird and then we pretend to be it. It's awesome." He paused a minute, a comical look of concentration on his face, "Let's see . . . How about . . . A peacock!" Ivan could only stare as the other boy began to strut jerkily around the room. "Come on!" he called, "Be a peacock!"

So Ivan imitated him, having never seen the creature aside from a storybook he'd had. Gilbert laughed, leading him in a small parade around the room. "Now duck!" he declared, splaying his feet and starting to waddle.

Ivan smiled, "No, no! You have to quack too or you're not a real duck!"

"Ah, you're right!" the albino exclaimed, adding a quack to his waddle, "Now you pick the bird, quack."

The taller child paused his waddle, "Umm . . . Eagle?"

Gilbert whooped and turned to leap onto the bed on the far side of the room, Pulling Ivan up behind him. He clasped their hands together, knees bent in the ready position, "Okay, when I say go, you jump. Got it?"

"Why?"

"So it feels like we're flying, just like an eagle," Gilbert grinned, gripping the other's hands tighter, "Ready? One . . . Two . . . Jump!"

Ivan's stomach dropped as they leapt into the air, springing off the mattress hand in hand. Their feet touched the sheets again and Gilbert crouched down to give them an extra boost, grabbing a blanket off the edge of the bed as he did so, letting go of One of Ivan's hands so that he could tie it around his neck. When they jumped again, the blanket flared out behind the albino, looking almost like the wings Ivan knew he was pretending it was. And the child from the North Kingdom laughed at the sight, their hands falling together again as they bounced on the bed. He gasped in surprise as Gilbert mid-air tackled him, covering him with the blanket and pushing him down with a grin.

"You laughed! You laughed!" Gilbert shrieked as though this was the best thing in the world as they wrestled around on the bed, trying in vain to untangle themselves from the blanket. Eventually, Gilbert just gave up and pulled another blanket up from the end of the bed, enveloping them both with it as he sat up, the soft cloth resting on their heads. "It's our secret base, kay?" he whispered.

"Kay," Ivan whispered back, trying to be secretive. He sat up a bit more, the first blanket still tangled around his feet. The trail ends of his scarf lay among the twisted blanket and he tightened the article around his neck, picking up the ends to hold them in clenched fingers. There were small burns and holes on the fraying edges from the night the North Fortress had collapsed, and he narrowed his eyes at them, whishing they'd disappear.

Gilbert noticed the look and leaned forward, his hands falling over Ivan's tight fists, "I . . . Why don't you tell me about it," he squeezed Ivan's hands, "I'll listen."

Ivan was silent a moment before he turned his hands upwards, dropping the ends of the scarf and squeezing the fingers around his own. "My mommy . . ." He began voice trembling a bit, "My mommy gave me this scarf. She gave it to me because I don't like the cold, even though we lived in the North Kingdom." He paused, sucking in a shaky breath and staring up the blanket sheltering them from the world, "My mommy died."

The albino lowered his gaze, unsure of what to say. But he gripped Ivan's hands tighter, "Did you love your mommy?"

"No," Gilbert's eyes widened at the strange answer. "I cared about her . . . But I don't think it was the love I should have had. She was never around. Sometimes I would go so long without seeing her that when I did see her, I didn't recognize her." He swallowed, staring at Gilbert questioningly, "Is that . . . Is that a bad thing to say?"

The other boy twined their fingers together, "Nuh-uh . . . There's no rule on loving your mother. I think." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "So, you don't have a family then?"

Ivan tilted his head to the side; "I have Arthur, and Natalia, and . . . And Francis . . ." He trailed off, dropping one of Gilbert's hands to fiddle uncomfortably with the tattered ends of his scarf.

Gilbert used his empty hand to take a look at the damage to the article, "I can fix that you know," he said after a moment.

"You can?"

The other child grinned, "Yup! Wait here, kay?" He wiggled out from beneath their makeshift hideout and came back a moment later with a small box. He pushed the blanket up again and slid back inside, opening the lid of the item to reveal a collection of needles and thread. "What color?"

" . . . Red?" Ivan said, unsure of what color he wanted the stitches to be. But he wanted them to stand out, so that he'd remember why they were there in the first place. He watched as Gilbert threaded the needle and began to fix the frayed edges right away. He cut away the burned parts and pulled what remained back together with the thread, repairing the holes and tears with careful movements. When he finished it was an inch or so shorter than before, but otherwise it looked much better.

"Do you want me to add a heart here?" He asked, pointing to the corner of one end.

"Why?" Ivan asked in bewilderment. There was nothing wrong with that corner.

"For the mommy that gave it to you," Gilbert whispered, "Because if she gave it to you, she must have loved you."

Ivan rubbed a hand over his eyes, hiding the sorrow that had appeared there, "Kay." He looked up when Gilbert had finished, holding up the other end of the scarf to him, "Put some hearts here too." He pointed to the corner, "Two big ones, a medium one, and a little one. For Arthur and Francis and Natalia and me."

So Gilbert did, biting the thread off after he'd finished, tying it off as he examined his handiwork. "How's that?"

"Good," Ivan whispered, fingering the small stitches, "Thank you."

Gilbert grinned proudly, "Anytime!" He too turned to look at the stitched hearts, "So, um, this Arthur . . . Is he your dad?"

"No."

"Then where will you go when he leaves?"

Ivan's eyes widened, he'd never thought about it like that. Arthur had been around for as long as he could remember, a permanent fixture. He'd forgotten that the man wasn't his family. His eyes filled almost immediately with tears and he held back a sob. Would he be all alone with Natalia when Arthur left?

The albino started with surprise at the tears that began to trickle down Ivan's face, reaching over to wipe them away with his sleeve, "Oh no, no, no! Don't cry, I'm sorry I made you cry!"

"It wasn't you," Ivan hiccupped, "I just . . . If Arthur leaves, Natalia and I'll be all alone now without my mommy."

"I'll be here," Gilbert whispered, trying to calm the onslaught of tears and sobs.

"But you can't take care of me," Ivan pointed out, "you're too little."

Gilbert stuck out his lower lip, "Then just go tell this Arthur guy what you think. Tell him you want to stay with him."

"What if he says no?" Ivan sniffed.

"I'll be here. I'll think of something."

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Arthur was sitting on the bed he'd been provided with, reading, when the door opened a crack. He raised his eyes towards it, feeling slightly apprehensive after the events in the North until he heard small voices.

"Just get in there and do it!"  
"What if he says no!?"

"Get in there and you'll find out!"

The blond smiled as Ivan was shoved inside the room, another boy with silver-white hair falling in after him when the taller child turned and dragged him down with him and they toppled to the floor. "Anything you need Ivan?" He asked lightly, closing his book and placing it on the bedside dresser.

"No," Ivan said immediately.

"Yes!" Gilbert yelled, getting a punch in the arm from the other boy.

The Crown Prince patted the bed beside him, "Come here then." He glanced at the other boy, "Oh, and Gilbert? Your father was looking for you."

"Ah, shoot," Gilbert muttered, dashing out of the room with a dismayed look from Ivan directed at his back as he left.

Arthur patted the bed again; watching as Ivan nervously climbed up beside him and sat down on his knees, shifting from side to side uncomfortably. "Ivan?" Arthur prompted, watching the way the child's hands had clenched around the ends of his long scarf.  
"Mommy's gone," Ivan said quietly.

"Yes," Arthur whispered, reaching over to run his hand's through the boy's hair.

Ivan stared up at the hand, relaxing a bit under the touch before he turned his eyes so that lavender met emerald. "I . . . I want to know what will happen to me. Who's going to take care of me now that mommy's gone?"

Arthur looked startled, as if he'd just assumed that Ivan wouldn't worry about such a thing, or that maybe the answer had seemed obvious, "I'll take care of you, Ivan."

"Really?" Ivan looked surprised, which made Arthur laugh.

"Of course. I'll take care of both you and Natalia for as long as you need me."

Ivan unclenched his hands, revealing the end of the scarf with the four hearts stitched into it, "A family, like this?"

The blond smiled, placing a finger on each heart, "Yes. What's the fourth one for, the baby?" he pointed to his swollen stomach.

"For Francis," Ivan said simply.

Arthur's mouth formed into a tight line, his characteristic eyebrows knitting together, ". . . For Francis . . ."

"Because we should all be together," Ivan murmured.

"That's right," Arthur whispered, drawing him up into his arms, hugging him close so that the child couldn't see his tears, "So we can all be together . . ."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

*le sigh* my lateness is not excused other than the fact that I had super writers block on this chapter about half way through. Basically, the scene where the castle gets attacked. But I plowed on through. *is triumphant*

I got to introduce Kiku this chapter in the little flash forward at the beginning. And I got to show you Ivan and Gilbert's first meeting at the end. Then there's Arthur's shitty life all over the place. =_= Yup. He really does have it hard, with Francis gone now and all. But you already know Francis's fate if you remember the first chapter at all. Anywho . . . Been so busy so chapters are REALLY slow right now. But I have a group project, a casebook, and an oral recitation of the Canterbury Tales prologue in Middle English all at once. And that's just English class. D: don't even get into science or math. Damn me and my AP stuff. That and I was messing around on Windows Movie Maker. A lot.

But review and I will update faster! Please? For little Russia-chan? Kolkolkolkolkol . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**One Last Fairytale: I Will Carry You**

For Ivan, days in the castle of the West Kingdom were spent in secret forts and the tallest of trees. Afternoons were for lying around in empty hallways and sneaking around dark corridors. Hand in hand in hand in hand. Night time was for one last imaginary battle and a bedtime story with Arthur.

For Arthur, days in the castle of the West Kingdom were spent in the expansive dining hall, surrounded by people who would help him regain his throne. Afternoons were small discussions and plans between High Princes Roman and Germania with Vash and himself. Evenings were when he would spend an hour or so with Natalia and Kiku, helping out Liech and learning about caring for the children. He'd be expecting his own soon after all. And then at the very end of the day he would curl up with Ivan and read his adopted son a story from on of the tomes of old fairytales in Germania's library.

And for Arthur, midnight was spent at the top of the castle's tallest watchtower, leaning against the stone windowsill and searching for the distant figure he knew would never come. And every morning just before dawn, Liech would come and drag him to his bed, scolding him on how he needed to sleep and that standing out in the cold wasn't good for him. But she never came any earlier than that, as if she knew that his searching and hoping was what kept him going.

Currently, Arthur was relaxing on one of the elaborate sofas in his room, staring out over the gardens where Ivan and Gilbert were playing. Even though it was mid December and the leaves had long fallen off of the trees and bushes, the pair seemed not to mind as they ran through the dead grass in the chilly air. The blonde's hands rested against his swollen stomach and he smiled when he felt the babies kick. It had been only a few days ago that Liech had told him that she suspected that it was twins, but he could still hardly believe it. Prince Roman had jokingly tried to discuss names with him, but he had declined. There was really only one thing he could name them, and he wasn't going to change that.

He looked up as the door creaked open and Vash sidestepped into the room, Liech hanging onto his arm. "We'll be leaving soon," he said quietly, his eyes avoiding the girl who clearly didn't want him to go. "Will you see us off?"  
Arthur heaved himself off the couch, Vash stepping forward to help him up, "It was my plan," the blond muttered, resting a hand on his aching back as he stood. "If I had it my way I'd be riding into battle with you."

Vash rolled his eyes, "Please refrain from doing so, sire."

"Don't call me that," Arthur snorted, following him down the hall towards the large oak double doors that led outside. "If I'm taking down the Nobility, then the silly titles between ranks are gone as well." He smiled, "Even when I'm king, I still want to just be called Arthur, thank you very much."

High Prince Roman waved as they exited onto the grounds, bringing his horse up beside them. "I'm looking forward to this," he smirked, stepping down to shake Arthur's hand. "I can't wait to gut some Nobility soldiers with this sword."

"Just make sure you don't gut yourself," Germania muttered under his breath as he rode up to them. The blond cast a glance around at the gathered army, "Roman, where's Antonio?"

Roman winced and shrugged, "Oh, I dunno . . . I think we should just leave without him." He turned to Arthur and dropped something that looked strangely enough like a key into his hand, ducking down to hiss in his ear, "He's locked in the storage closet in the kitchens. Don't let him out till we're long gone, okay?"

Arthur smiled and pretended he'd heard nothing, "He'll be pissed, you know that right?"

"Pissed is better than dead," Roman whispered between his teeth as he grinned innocently at Germania. "It's bad enough that Francis is gone, and that _high and mighty_ over there insists on coming too. But I won't have my other son killed as well." He turned to rub his hand on Arthur's belly, "Name one after me, got it?"

"I'll consider it as a middle name," Arthur laughed, swatting his hand away. "Just make sure you win so that you can tell them of your heroic deeds when they're born."

Roman's smile faltered, "Oh, but Antonio can tell them all that too, you know? It doesn't have to be me."

The blond didn't catch his reluctant hesitation, distracted as Ivan and Gilbert came barreling out of the doors towards them. Gilbert stood next to his father's horse, holding the hand of a small blue-eyed, blond haired boy just barely old enough to walk. Germania laughed and lifted them both up onto his lap. "Gilbert," he said softly, "Take care of your little brother, all right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And teach him lots of words; he hasn't talked at all yet. Silly thing," the High Prince rubbed the blonde's hair fondly. "But none of those dirty words I hear you and Ivan saying when you think we can't hear you."

Gilbert whistled and looked away, "What, no . . . I've never said any dirty words." Ivan laughed below and the albino shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"And when he falls down, pick him back up and take care of his cuts," Germania continued. "If he cries, sing him a song until he stops. And make sure you hug him every day, just to show him you care."

"Lame," Gilbert deadpanned.

"Promise me," Germania smiled, taking his hand, "Promise me, okay?"

"Kay," Gilbert whispered as the High Prince lifted him and his brother back down to the ground. Roman grinned and hopped back on his horse, motioning for the army to get a move on. Vash stood where he was for a moment before leaning over to whisper something in Liech's ear and kissing her on the cheek before he mounted his own horse and followed.

"Come back in one piece!" Arthur called after them, waving, Liech sniffing beside him, trying not to cry. Gilbert held his brother's hand with his left, and with his right he squeezed Ivan's, biting his lip as his father's words sunk into him.

Arthur and Liech herded the children back into the castle as the gates closed on the outer wall. Castle guards locked the oaken doors behind them and they began to head back into the deeper parts of the castle. The blond showed Liech the key he'd been given after a moment, wondering when it would be safe to let Antonio out of the storage closet. As it was, they could already hear his furious yells even though they had yet to reach the kitchens. In the end, they sat on the counters eating frosting from a bowl with the children and waited an hour or so for the noise in the closet to die down before they let Antonio out.

And as they suspect, he was furious. But by now he was also exhausted from trying to break the door down. "Stupid . . ." He panted, hands on his knees as Arthur finally opened the door. "Stupid old man . . ."

"Oh quit whining," Arthur snorted, "you can help out around here if you're so set on doing something."

"I wanted to avenge Francis!" Antonio snarled, standing up fully.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "You don't need to avenge someone who isn't dead," he said calmly.

Antonio's eyes blazed with anger at this, "How long are you going to keep saying that? Until you die? Because that's the only time you're ever going to see him again! He's gone, Arthur! You saw him get stabbed through the stomach, no one lives through that!"

"Stop . . ." Liech tried to cut in, stepping between them.

"I saw, yes," Arthur hissed. "But I think that after all this time, I would know if he had died. I can still feel him! Can't you understand that?"

"That's just your futile hope telling you that!" Antonio yelled, balling his fists at his side. "He would have shown up by now if he was alive! But he hasn't! He hasn't even once come to see how you were! Doesn't that tell you something?!"

"Stop!"  
"It tells me that he can't get to me right now!" Arthur screamed. "He's alive, and I _am_ going to say so until the day I die, even if he's not . . . There . . ." His mouth fell open in a silent gasp and his hands that had been half raised to slap Antonio lowered to his stomach.

Liech's face paled and she turned towards him fully, "Arthur?"

" . . . Hurts . . ." Arthur whispered, characteristic eyebrows furrowing together in pain, "Something's wrong . . ."

The girl's eyes widened and she glared at Antonio fiercely, "You idiot! Go get as many fresh towels as you can find." She directed her sharp gaze at Gilbert and Ivan, "And you two, go get Yao and boil some hot water. At least two good sized pans." When the children had dashed off she noticed Antonio still standing there, dumbstruck, "Get going! If he miscarries now it'll be your fault you moron!"  
Arthur rested a hand on the counter behind him, legs shaking as Liech yelled orders. The fact that she was yelling was enough to make him worry, but that last sentence rang coldly in his ears. _Miscarries_. "No . . ." he whispered, biting his lip as another wave of pain washed over him. Whatever god was watching him must have a cruel sense of humor for this to happen right now. He'd already lost Francis, he would not lose the babies too.

Liech led him into the nearest bedroom, saying comforting things to him that he didn't quite hear. He was too distracted, one hand on his aching stomach, the other over his heart. _Francis . . . Francis, please hurry . . . You have to help me . . . _ He tightened his fingers into the fabric of his shirt above his heart, telling himself that if he said the words loud enough in his mind that Francis would hear him. Somehow, somewhere.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Vash led the way through the crumbled wall of the Main Hetalia castle, trampling one of the Nobility's soldiers with his horse as he went. "Don't light fire to your arrows around the castle!" he called to his men, "We need it intact!" Boulders crashed to the ground behind him, toppling the stone wall that had protected the castle. He pulled on the reins, slowing his steed to a gentle canter as they approached the castle itself. "Ready the battering ram!" he ordered, watching as one of their battalions hefted up an enormous log between them, "Three, two, one!"

The door's creaked and groaned from the impact, but didn't crack. Vash growled in annoyance, lifting his hand for them to ram it again. "Three, two, one!" The wood snapped audibly, splinters falling to the ground at the soldier's feet. "Three, two, one!" The door heaved and spilt, Vash grinning in triumph, "One more time! Three, two, one!"

Roman laughed as the door buckled and groaned, falling inwards as their soldier's swarmed against it, pushing it down. He could clearly hear the startled cries of guards and maids inside, warning calls to the tyrant king hiding somewhere in there. "Don't hurt the workers there," he reminded his men as they raced past him, "Soldiers and the King and Queen are fair game though."

Germania pulled up beside him, "The Queen too? Are you sure?"

The brunette smirked, "She's just as responsible for Arthur's misfortune as her husband. Corrupt is corrupt. Gender makes no difference." He kicked his horse forward, forcing it into a gallop towards the doors, "So, since Vash already called dibs on the King, wanna see who can gut the most soldiers?"

The blond snorted, following at a slower pace, "I'll win anyways."

Vash urged his soldiers on around them, pressing through what resistance they met. He raised his sword in triumph when they burst into the front hall, the massive double staircase looming in front of them. He forced his horse into a steady gallop, charging up the steps, eyes on the large tapestry of the royal family hanging there. Raising his blade, he drew the metal across it, carving the heads off the king and queen, tossing them to the floor so that only the image of a young Arthur remained. "King Arthur!" he roared, starting a battle cry among his men.

They surged up the stairs, pushing the Main Hetalia soldiers over the railing. Vash hissed in startled surprise as an arrow shot past him, nicking his shoulder. He clasped a hand over the wound, blinking at the strange tingling such a small cut had left. "Shit . . . Avoid the arrows!" he called over his shoulder, "They're poisoned!" The blonde winced as another arrow bit into the same arm and he raised his sword to block a third. "Don't falter! Break their ranks!"

He forced his way through the Main Hetalia soldiers, cutting them down from atop his steed. His teeth met his lip as he felt his arm beginning to grow numb. Vash eyed the fighting around him, knowing that he needed to suck out the poison as soon as possible. But he also knew too well that the places he'd been were nearly impossible to reach himself. He tried to ignore it for a moment, tearing down another offending portrait of the king as he passed. He planned to construct a lovely bonfire with them later.

Suddenly, his horse reared up, frightened by the soldier pointing a spear at its face in an effort to force Vash to the ground. An effort that succeeded. The blond gasped in surprise, toppling over backwards onto the marble floor. His eyes widened and he rolled over onto his side as his horse came crashing down on top of him. Stabbed in the chest with the spear. Vash coughed, clawing at the ground to pull himself out from beneath the slain creature, his lower half from his bottom rib down pinned to the floor. The blond tried pushing up, but his numbed arm gave way beneath him, unable to support even his own weight.

Vash's vision blurred with the poison and he scrabbled helplessly at the ground again, searching for a handhold on smooth marble. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath, fingers curing into his palms, forming into frustrated fists. He couldn't die here. Not here, not now. He'd promised Liech he'd be back! He reached for something, anything to pull himself out again, the weight of the horse beginning to crush him. But the effort was in vain. And the more he struggled, the faster the poison spread. He couldn't see a way to escape fate at this point.

The blond squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath with the horse slowly smashing him into the floor. "Sorry . . . Arthur," he whispered, "I couldn't avenge Francis for you. I'm sorry . . ." He bit his lip as a wave of pain laced through his arm, "Sorry . . . Liech, for not coming back." He breathed in shakily, "I'm sorry . . . Roderich . . . For not being able to reach you in time. I couldn't . . . Couldn't save you . . ."

"You are forgiven."

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Antonio sat with his head in his hands, his mind far from the battle raging in the Main Hetalia castle far away. He groaned at the giggles and screeches and wails that surrounded him, cracking open an exhausted eye in annoyance. "Why are there so many freakin children in this place?" he grumbled to himself.

"Because there are," Gilbert said unhelpfully from the floor, where he was currently tied up with Ivan's scarf in a game of guards and robbers, playing the failed robber.

The Southwest Kingdom prince raised an eyebrow, "But there are seven of you in this room alone! I feel like Snow White!" he exclaimed. "And hell, I don't even know most of your names! And why was I placed on babysitting duty?!"

"Because that's just how it is," Ivan said, imitating Gilbert's earlier statement.

"And our names aren't that hard to remember," Gilbert chimed in. "Look," he pointed to himself, "I'm Gilbert, you can remember me because I'm awesome." He pointed to his companion leaning heavily against his shoulder, "And that's Ivan. We are both equally awesome. So together, we are doubly awesome. Remember it well."

He turned to the blanket on the floor where all the other children were huddled, "And over there is Natalia," he said, motioning towards the fair haired baby on hands and knees scootching slowly towards Ivan, "She's just starting to crawl, and she's the only girl." He turned the hand towards the next child with dark hair who was levering himself up onto chubby, wobbly legs using the sofa as a stabilizer, a determined look in his equally dark eyes. "That's Kiku," Gilbert explained, "He's probably going to be walking soon, so watch out." At the mention of his name, Kiku turned to look at the albino, promptly sneezed, and fell back down onto his butt, walking/standing efforts thrown to waste. The older boy merely laughed at this, turning to the next baby, or rather, pair of babies, "That's Lovino and Feliciano, they're the youngest. You brought them, you should know that much at least."

"Doesn't mean I can tell them apart," Antonio complained.

Gilbert gave him a _you're hopeless_ look, "Feliciano is the happy one, and Lovi is the grumpy one. Like in the Seven Dwarves." He sighed in exasperation at Antonio's blank stare and motioned to the final child with slicked blond hair, laying on his stomach and gazing at Feliciano curiously, "And that's West. I mean . . . Ludwig. He's my little brother."

Ivan sighed as Antonio merely blinked in reply, draping his arms over Gilbert's shoulders lazily, "Oh, leave him be. He's booorrriiiiinnngg."

"Raaahh! I am not boring!" Antonio yelled, throwing his hands in the air as Ivan smirked broadly.

"Antonio!" Yao came skidding into the room, casting Ivan a brief smile before turning to the man, "Antonio, we need your help, please."

Antonio's eyes widened, "Wait, what? I know I was just complaining about babysitting, but I'd rather do that than baby . . . Delivering," he shuddered.

"Liech says 'get in there or die,'" Yao quoted with a serious look on his face, "We need more hands."

A few minutes later found Antonio wincing as his hand was crushed in Arthur's grip. "You could have told me that you needed literal hands!" he hissed, swearing he could hear his bones cracking.

Arthur took a shaky breath, opening bleary, pained eyes towards him, "S-sorry . . ." He whispered.

"S'okay," Antonio mumbled, squeezing his hand back lightly, "It's my fault anyway. The least I can do is stand here until my moron brother gets back, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, gripping the other's hand harshly again with the next contraction, crying out, "You . . . Might not . . . Get this hand back . . ." He panted, biting his lip to stifle another loud yell.

"It's a gift," Antonio laughed weakly, dabbing a damp cloth across the blonde's brow. He cast a nervous glance towards the opposite direction of the bed, "How's it going down there, Liech?"

The girl looked up from between Arthur's raised legs, something the Crown Prince tried to burn from his mind, covering his mortified face with his free hand. "The first one might be a breech birth," she said slowly, worry clear in her viridian eyes.

"And that is . . ." Antonio prompted.

"Born feet first and-"  
"Hurts like shit!" Arthur gasped out, making Antonio yelp at the force his hand was being crushed with. The blond whimpered, pressing his face into one of the pillows that had been piled around him, cursing into the fabric.

"Ah, Yao, grab those towels, quick," Liech directed suddenly, "I can see the baby. Arthur, I'm going to need you to push now."

"What do you think I've been doing?!" Arthur snapped, the retort ending with another scream of pain.

"Oh, look, my fingers have gone purple," Antonio remarked to himself, "Lovely." He sighed and gripped the hand squishing his into oblivion in return, "Okay, Arthur. On the count of three. One, two . . ."

"Three already!" Arthur cried, his free hand twisting into the sheets in pain. He gasped as a suddenly empty, or rather, half empty feeling washed over him, opening his eyes to try and see over the edge of the bed.

"It's out," Yao said quietly. But besides that statement, he was frozen to the spot. Liech was holding the bundle of towels in her arms, eyes watering as she stared down at the child amidst the folds.

Arthur held his breath. Why wasn't there any crying? Babies always cried as soon as they were born, right? "Why isn't it crying?" he asked softly, straining to sit up, but Antonio held him down, eyes wide, "Why isn't my baby crying?!"

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Vash tried his best to blink away the bleary fog that clouded his eyes, to little avail. The fighting still raged on around him, but he paid it little heed. Someone's hand was gripping his, tightly, comfortingly. He could hear voices close by, sounding clearer than the battle cries and screams of dying agony besides.

"Merde, he's got the whole horse on top of him!"

"If it had fallen any higher, his ribs would have been crushed and he'd be dead."

"Can the two of you pull it off?" a third voice asked, this one right beside him, presumably the person holding his hand. It was a familiar voice, but Vash couldn't place it. His mind too hazy and unfocused to remember.

"Oui. Grab that leg, ami, and pull when I give the word."

"Right."

The blond turned his attention to the hand around his own, drawing his fingers across the person's palm dazedly.

"Pull!"

The palm and fingers were smooth, strikingly different from Vash's own battle-scarred hands. But he could feel old, light calluses on the very tips of the fingers, and he hummed softly to himself upon finding them. These were comforting, familiar hands, but he just couldn't seem to place them.

"One more time, ami. Pull!"

They reminded him of music, which he assumed was the reason these hands had such unnoticeable calluses from. He recalled sitting in the West castle when he was small, listening to beautiful melodies composed by gentle, still learning hands. Fingers that over time, no matter what, had always danced perfectly over black and white keys on the finest of pianos. But that thought, or maybe it was a memory, only made his heart hurt. He couldn't remember why it should though. Head that person who'd played such beautiful music gone somewhere? Somewhere far away?

"It's off!"

"Good lord that thing was heavy! My arms feel like jelly!"

The third voice was right near his ear, the hand not in his grasp shaking his shoulders, "Vash? Vash!" The hand trembled around his, the opposite one finding the wounds on his arm. The blond hissed as the cuts were touched, arching up in the other's grip. "He's been poisoned!" the voice spoke again, worry laced in its tone. Vash clenched his fingers against the hand around his as he was rolled over onto his side, head in the speaker's lap, injured arm facing up.

"What are you going to do? Are we too late?"

"No, no . . . Hush now, I'm going to suck out the poison," the comforting voice whispered. The gently callused hands tore off his sleeve, baring the swollen cuts towards him. Vash cried out as lips met the first wound, a searing, stinging pain piercing his arm as the poison's path began to reverse. His other hand not in the person's grasp struggled to find a handhold in the fabric of the person's clothes. "Hold him down! Don't let him move that arm, he'll make it worse!" Vash yelled as his arm was suddenly restrained, but the hand around his held him steady. So he tried to focus on that instead, pressing his face into the other's robes, gripping the smooth hand with gritted teeth.

"That's a lot of blood . . ."

"Oui . . ."

The person drew back, trailing gentle, callused fingertips over the wounds, "It tastes clean now. I think I got it all out." Vash twisted slightly in the other's cautious, cradling grip, staring up into dark-blue eyes gazing down at him through thin glasses as his vision began to clear. The blonde continued to stare blankly for a moment in disbelief before snapping his hand out of the other's, burying his face against the person's stomach, arms tangling around their waist.

"Vash?"  
He couldn't decide whether he should curse out of anger and embarrassment, or cry from relief. So he settled for a little of both, "You . . . Fucking idiot!" he sobbed, "We thought you were dead! Stupid Roderich!"

Roderich laughed, relieved that the blond was responding properly again, "I apologize. I know it must have been hard, especially for you. But we couldn't return, I'm sorry."

At the word _we_ Vash turned in Roderich's grip to catch sight of the people behind him. A woman with long brown hair was tucking a strand behind her ear, eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure whether I should be worried about the two of you, or be saving this image in my mind because it's too cute," Elizaveta said, eyeing the position Vash and her husband were in.

"A little of both maybe?" A tall man with shoulder-length fair blond hair and blue eyes commented lightly. "But I'm thinking that you and I should handle the rest of the mess here, right, Elizaveta? After all, I'm dying to get a shot at that prick king myself, hmm?"

"Right, Francis," Elizaveta smirked.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

"Why isn't my baby crying?! Arthur asked desperately, voice rising to a scream of dread and panic.

"Yao, Lich, hold him down!" Antonio commanded, standing up and tearing his hand from Arthur's grasp to take the unmoving infant from Liech. He ignored Arthur's anguished screams, backing up a good few steps from the bed, running fingers over closed eyes and mouth. Pushing the baby's mouth open, he blew a breath through the child's nose first, then sucking in swiftly through the mouth, gagging at the blood and birthing fluid that entered his own mouth instead. Spitting the stuff out on the floor, he repeated the movement, Arthur's screams echoing in his ears. He drew back once more, retching out the mouthful of horrid stuff he'd practically inhaled from the baby's lungs.

There was a strangled cough and Antonio blinked back tears as the infant in his arms choked and gasped, letting out an ear splitting wail. "He's all right!" he exclaimed, wiping a hand across his eyes to hide his tears. "It's a boy," he murmured almost to himself, and then louder, "It's a boy! He's all right!"

Arthur sobbed and sunk back into the mattress as Antonio laughed, practically bouncing over to him, screeching baby in hand. The blond blinked and reached up for the child, pulling him close as Antonio placed him in his arms. He whispered a silent thank you, relieved tears trickling out of emerald eyes as he rocked the infant in his arms. The boy had a fuzz of sandy-blond hair on his head, and Arthur bit his lip to hold back another strangled sob as he noticed the blue eyes, identical to Francis's.

"What are you going to name him?" Antonio asked, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"Alfred," Arthur laughed, reality beginning to wash over him again, "That was the name Francis was dead set on. So since he was born first, his name is Alfred. Alfred Antonio Bonnefoy."

"Alfred Anto- What?!" Antonio stuttered.

"You saved his life," Arthur smiled, cradling the baby close.

Liech swooped in at that moment, taking the child from a reluctant Arthur. "Don't' forget that there's still one more. We don't want you to crush him, now do we?" She handed the newborn to Yao, "Go clean this one up. The next one should be much easier, so I can handle it."

Antonio winced as his hand was almost immediately crushed in Arthur's grip again. "I'll never be able to hold a blade properly after this," he muttered sourly.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Roman didn't know how the fire started, since his men had tried so hard to prevent it from happening at all. They had wanted the castle intact, but he could see now that it would burn to the ground just as the North Fortress had. He could only assume that it was a soldier from the Main Hetalia army on the king's orders, and that was what unnerved him the most. If the king had given the order to set the castle aflame, then he was no longer inside its walls. "Get out!" he ordered his men, motioning towards the doors and windows around them. Third floor or not, jumping was a better option than death by smoke inhalation. And the trees around the walls had not yet caught fire. "Quick, everyone out! The king has escaped! Find him, cut him down!"

He'd started with surprise as one person raced past him. A girl. What was a young woman like that doing among his soldier's, wielding a blade no less? She looked to be well seasoned with it too. Her long brown hair was thrown over one shoulder and she brought her long-sword down across a Main Hetalia man's back as he tried to stop his men from escaping out the windows. Roman blinked, trying to recall where he'd seen her before. Wasn't she that Roderich boy's wife? But hadn't they both . . .

It was the next person who passed him that made his heart skip a beat in shock. Blond hair, blue eyes, so much like his deceased mother . . . "Francis!" he cried out, reaching out to grasp his son's arm.

"Father!" Francis too looked slightly off balance upon seeing the man for the first time in seven years.

"You're alive . . . Where were you all this time?"

"I got a little tied up, "Francis smiled apologetically. "You know, gashing wound to the stomach and all. Almost didn't make it. Roderich and Elizaveta carried me out of the castle, and it was weeks before I could even properly sit up again, let alone walk. Sorry I'm late."

"That husband of yours is going to eat you alive when you get back," Roman grinned. "Angsty little thing you captured with that one."

Francis flashed him a thumbs up, "That just makes the sex all the better!" He motioned towards one of the open windows, "You said the king escaped?"

"Had to have, otherwise he wouldn't let the castle burn to the ground." He shot a wary glance at the ceiling as the flames began to lick up the walls, tickling the edges of the wooden beams above, "Now get, I have to make sure everyone's out. Got it?"

The blond raised a skeptical eyebrow but edged backwards towards the window all the same, "Got it . . . See you in a few then?"

"Of course," Roman smiled, stepping forward as the beam above them creaked ominously. His eyes flicked up to it as it cracked and groaned and he lunged for Francis, shoving him out the window.

Francis yelled in surprise, landing in the boughs of a tree a floor below, flames exploding out through the window he'd fallen from. "No!" he cried, trying to untangle himself from the branches, only to be caught by Elizaveta from a lower perch.

"Let's get out of here, Francis! The room collapsed, there's nothing we can do!" she urged, pulling him down from the tree, "If you kill the king, everything they all did will be avenged."

The blond gritted his teeth, "I know."

Germania coughed as smoke billowed out down the hallway. Strangely enough, the fire had started from an upper floor, which made him suspect that the king had escaped somehow. He'd already sent his men out, and was running through the halls, checking for any stragglers. As he passed one room, he heard a moan and a cough and he faltered where he stood. The blonde eyed the room, almost completely consumed in orange and crimson flames. But he could have sworn he'd heard something.

He darted inside despite the fire as he caught sight of a mop of dark brown hair amidst a pile of rubble. He left his sword in the doorway, stumbling over to where a heavy ceiling beam had fallen, fingers finding a grip on the other side of it. "Roman! Roman you idiot, don't you dare be dead!"

A hand reached up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from lifting the wood off of his companion. Roman looked up at the blond with clouded eyes, a weak smile on his face, "Don't lift it. Just get out of here."

"I'm not going to leave you here to burn!" Germania hissed, trying to reach the beam again, but Roman's strong grip held him back.

"That thing crushed my spine," Roman smiled, "I'll die instantly if you lift it away. So . . . Please . . . Leave before you get hurt too."  
Germania slowly sunk down to his knees, blue eyes wide with shock, "No . . ." He twisted his hand so that it gripped the other man's. "That . . . That can't be . . ."

"Go," Roman urged desperately. "Get out of here."

The blonde's eyes darkened at his, "I can't do that, Rome."

"Wh-what? Get out you idiot! You'll die if you stay here!"

A small smile pricked at the corners of Germania's mouth, "I know." He lay down until he was on his stomach, eye level with the other High Prince. "But . . . It's okay if I die here. It's okay."  
"Stop that. Please don't do this," Roman pleaded, gripping the other's shoulders, "You have two little kids at home, Germania!"

"Two _strong_ children," Germania murmured, pressing his face into the crook of Roman's neck, "They can get by without me."

Roman's hands shook as they curled around Germania's back, another beam crashing down nearby. "The floor's going to give out soon . . ." he whispered.

"Probably," Germania replied lightly, as if it didn't really matter to him.

The dark haired man pressed as close as he could without removing himself from beneath the wood holding his body together. "Hey, Germania?" He waited as the other murmured a soft, "hmm," near his ear. "That boy . . . Ludwig . . . Is that . . ."

"Yeah," Germania whispered.

Roman laughed, tears leaking out of his dark eyes, "That was some drunken night, wasn't it? Two years ago almost now, wasn't it."

"Two years ago today exactly," Germania huffed. "He's quite a terror you know. Always hiding like you did when you were young. Likes being by himself more than he likes being with others."

"What? That's like you, stupid! I was the one who always came to find you when we were little," Roman complained.

"Really, I could have sworn it was the other way around . . ."

"Wasn't," Roman snorted. He buried his face against the other's neck again, repressing more tears. "It's sad, really. Don't you think? He won't remember either of us. He's too little. How pitiful."

"Gilbert knows. He'll tell Ludwig when he's old enough to understand," Germania replied softly.

"Hey . . . Germania?" Roman murmured weakly, his eyelids begging to drop.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry . . . Sorry it had to be this way . . ." He inhaled a shallow breath, "Sorry that I never told you . . . That . . . I . . ."

Germania drew back a bit, "That you what?" Roman didn't answer. "Roman, stay with me! What were you going to say?! Roman!" He bit his lip as the hands against his back slackened their grip, and he squeezed his eye shut to hold back the wave of grief that washed over him. The floor shifted beneath them and he pressed his face against the shoulder of the other's unmoving body with a strangled, anguished noise. "Me too . . . Roman. I'm sorry. But I . . . Me too . . . Always. Always, always, always."

Francis was over a thousand yards from the castle when it collapsed. And he did not turn around to see it happen, holding a hand to his eyes, trying not to let Elizaveta see his knowing tears.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

The second infant's fuzz of hair was a lighter shade of blond, much more like Francis's than Arthur's. And his eyes were slightly darker than Alfred's, almost a light lavender rather than blue. Arthur smiled to himself as he held both children, a tired, but content smile.

"Two boys, huh?" Antonio commented from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "What's the other one going to be named?"  
"Matthew," Arthur murmured. "I can't decide on a middle name though. What do you think?" He laughed softly as Antonio stared blankly at him, "Does Matthew Roman Bonnefoy sound halfway decent?"

Antonio grinned, "After mine and Francis's dad? That's great! He'll be so excited when you tell him that." He held up a hand, naming out the letter of the child's name, "M, R, B. As long as it doesn't spell anything, you can give the kid any middle name you want, really."

"Spell anything?" Arthur echoed, raising a characteristic eyebrow questioningly.

"You _don't_ want to know," Antonio said immediately, waving a hand like the subject itself was a bad omen, "My dad has a sick sense of humor sometimes. Alfred is actually Francis's middle name, did you know? So what does that spell?"

"FAB?" Arthur snorted, "As is short for fabulous? Good lord, that's perfect."

"His is halfway decent," Antonio muttered. "You don't even want to know mine."

"Can I guess it?"

"No," Antonio commanded, standing up from the side of the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go keep a lookout for Liech and our victorious returning soldiers. And you," he turned to point an accusing finger at the blond, "You . . . Get some sleep. Or you'll be too tired to greet everyone. And they'll all want to see you, so, sleep!"

Arthur laughed as the other man left, "Right, right. I'll sleep in a little bit, don't worry about me." But as soon as the door closed softly behind Antonio, Arthur turned back to the infants balanced in his arms. No matter how cliché it sounded, he couldn't stop looking at them. And if he hadn't already promised Antonio he'd get some sleep, he would have stayed awake all night just watching them. He could see bits and pieces of Francis in the both of them. Their eyes, Matthew's wavy light hair, Alfred's fine eyebrows. Arthur laid back against the pillows, closing his eyes and biting his lip. It would be a dark reality after the battle was over. He'd have to run a kingdom with four children to take care of, and no one at his side. Lifting his hand up towards the moonlight spilling through the window, he caught the glint of the silver band on his ring finger. His hand clenched into a fist, and he sighed in remorse that for now, the matcher to the ring was still nowhere to be found.

When Arthur awoke again it was still dark out, but when he tilted his head towards the window, he could just make out the faintest rays of the rising sun. Pink hues on the edges of a midnight-black sky. His arms were still around the twins, the pair nestled tightly against his chest. He hadn't let them go, even in his sleep. Smiling to himself, he glanced towards the other side of the room, specifically at the door. There were no sounds of returning soldiers, so he closed his eyes again.

A hand rested in his hair, briefly skimming through golden locks before falling back to the mattress. Arthur kept his eyes closed, a feeling of contentment washing over him at the touch. He remembered this hand, larger than his own, rough from the practice of battle, gentle with love. _Ah,_ he thought to himself,_ this is _his_ hand. A dream._

"Francis, why haven't you come to find me yet?" he whispered, deciding to scold the illusion, blinking open his eyes to stare into the sky-blue of the other man.

Francis was leaning on the edge of the bed, head resting in his folded arms, cheek on the mattress. He smiled, "I'm sorry, cherie. I couldn't come to you right away, no matter how much I wanted to."

"Hmm . . ." Arthur hummed to himself, "I know. You would have been here long before now if you could have." Emerald eyes slid closed again, "They look like you, you know?"

"Oh? Enlighten me," Francis murmured.

"They both have your eyes," the younger man smiled. "And they're sorta chubby, just like you."

"I am offended," Francis smiled, reaching out to take Arthur's hand.

Arthur opened his eyes again, gazing at him dazedly, "Francis . . . When will you come back? It . . . It hurts, so bad . . . I don't know how long I can take it."

Francis kissed the other's upturned palm reassuringly, "No matter where I am in the world, Angleterre, I will always be with you."

The younger blond snorted and turned away, "That's a cheesy answer, frog."

"I know."

The next time Arthur opened his eye, the sun was just barely above the horizon. The twins were starting to sniffle, so he sat up, swinging his legs out of bed with a groan before carrying them to the kitchen. To his surprise, there was no one in there. Usually, Yao and Liech were already bustling about making the other children breakfast. But this morning, the room was absolutely deserted. He stared at the emptiness for a moment before shrugging it off and opening a cabinet, searching for the powdered milk that Liech had said she'd leave out the night before.

He mixed up two bottles, placing them in boiling water to heat them up the desirable temperature, testing it on his wrists before he sat down on the counter, Matthew on his lap and Alfred in the crook of his arm. Arthur hummed softly to himself as he fed them, mind straying back to last night. He smiled, "Hard to believe you were still inside of me twenty-four hours ago," he murmured to the infants, shifting their positions so that he Matthew in his arm instead. "We have a long road ahead, don't we? A kingdom to run and only one daddy to do it." His smile faltered slightly, but he held it in place. "Let's go bother Antonio now. That should be interesting. And he probably has news from the Main Hetalia castle by now."

Arthur hopped off the counter, baby in each arm, and made his way out of the kitchen and down the hall. He paused outside of Ivan's room, but noticed immediately that the boy wasn't in there, so he carried on. It was starting to become slightly unnerving how eerily silent it was in the castle. The blond stopped near the entrance to the common room, startled to hear a multitude of voices from inside. He jumped as the side of his pants was suddenly grabbed, Ivan staring up at him wordlessly with shining lavender eyes.

The blond grinned when he saw the gathered crowd, spread out across couches and tables. Liech was bustling between them, passing out bandages and water as she went. Antonio was sitting with Gilbert on his lap and Ludwig balanced on his shoulders. Both Antonio and the albino child looked rather somber, but smiled at him when he entered the room. Vash was perched on the back of a sofa, his right arm that was swollen and red from poison and heat from the fire was being wrapped by Roderich, who sat with his knees on the couch, gently binding the arm.

It was then that Arthur's heart stopped. Roderich. Roderich ha died in the fire of the North Fortress. This couldn't be. At that moment, Elizaveta skipped out of the crowd towards him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He stared at her in shock, gazing at her bloodstained armor and then closing his eyes as if blinking away a mirage. "What . . ."

"Happy to see us?" she laughed, "Surprised? We're sorry about not getting here earlier, but we had injured party members." Elizaveta smiled, "And look, I missed the babies being born. I'm disappointed."

"So am I," another voice laughed from behind Arthur, making his eye widen in disbelief. "I mean, you couldn't have held them in or something?"

"You can't hold a baby in," Elizaveta scoffed, "It's not like holding in poop or anything. Which you shouldn't do, by the way. It's bad for you."

Arthur stood completely still, not daring to turn and face the other speaker in case he was hallucinating, and hardly daring to breathe unless he woke up from whatever dream this was, "Angleterre, you're standing like a tree doing that, you'll hurt your back." A hand rested on his shoulder, the same hand that had messed with his hair the night before.

Tears began to trickle out of Arthur's emerald eyes, and he choked on them, letting Elizaveta take the twins from him before whirling around to face the other. He stared in shock for a moment before flinging his arms around the other man with a strangled, relieved cry. Francis laughed, hugging him close, murmuring meaningless things into his ear as he tried to sooth him. The taller of the two kneeled down on the floor, taking Arthur with him, pulling him as close as he could, "Shhh . . . Shhh . . . Cherie, I know . . . But I promise here and now, to never, _ever_, leave you alone again. I'm sorry I took so long."

"Idiot," Arthur sobbed, pressing his face into the folds of Francis's clothes. "I was so sure . . . I saw you get stabbed . . . I was sure you had died . . . Even though I . . . I kept telling everyone you were still alive . . ." He hiccupped, repressing another sob. "And last night . . . Alfred . . . Francis, I was so scared . . ."

Francis untangled one arm from around the other man, reaching out for Elizaveta to hand him one of the children. He pushed Arthur back a bit, cradling the baby in one arm before taking the other. "Which one is Alfred, mon cherie?"

Arthur smiled, wiping a hand across his eyes, "This one, with the slightly dark hair," he took the infant from his spouse, tucking him into the crook of his arm, "And this one is Matthew."

"Those are good names," Francis whispered. He smiled, reaching with his free hand that wasn't holding Matthew to pull Arthur to him again, kissing his forehead lightly, "Two beautiful sons. You did good, Angleterre."

Arthur smiled in return, blinking as his nightclothes were tugged on by Ivan from behind, "Actually, we have four children," he said, ruffling Ivan's hair, "Ivan, Natalia, Alfred, and Matthew."

"There's going to be no time at all for sex, is there," Francis sighed, scooping up Ivan and plopping the boy down onto his lap. "Oh well . . ."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Arrrrggghhhhh . . . . School. Anywho . . . This chapter took SOOO long! I'm sorry, those of you waiting for the new LDoH chapter as well, but this had priority, sort of.

And yes, I am a secret Austria/Switzerland fan. But I have a rule of supporting at least one straight pair in every anime/manga. So if I went all out with that fandom too, I'd destroy both straight pairs I like, Switzeland/Liechtenstein and Austria/Hungary. So I added meaningless fluff for them here. Ignore it if you wish. And the Rome/Germania stuff is based on the fact that I am so confused about Holy Roman Empire's origins. His dad is Germania, it says so in the stats. But his granddad is Rome? But everyone knows that Rome isn't any of their granddad. He's actually their father, but says he's not. So . . . HRE/Germany is the child of Rome and Germania then, right? So I added suggestions of that here.

*sigh* I'm beat right now, but I've barely started on the new LDoH, so back to work. D:

But I was f-ing around with Windows Movie Maker for a bit yesterday, so I can only blame myself. But I really like the vid I made. I think I included every pairing I like except for Rome/Germania. But they're a bit hard to find stuff for, so whatever.

Net chapter will be a short little bonus thing with Francis and Arthur's family life a few months from the current date, before we skip over a few years to Alfred's childhood.

Oh, and I seem to get more reviews when I hand out threats. You masochists. Lol. So here, REVIEW OR GILBERT AND IVAN WILL TIE YOU UP AND BEAT YOU!


	6. Chapter 6

**One Last Fairytale: Lullaby For A Stormy Night**

Arthur was begging in to miss the days were he had woken up in a bleary, sex satisfied state sometime in the late afternoon curled up at Francis's side. Actually, there was no _beginning_ about it. He'd definitely taken days like that for granted. Today, his eyelids flitted open with an obvious groan as the sound of hungry crying reached his ears. He allowed himself to lay there for a moment, half wishing it would stop, but knowing he'd think something was wrong and get up anyways if it did. Sighing, he lowered his hand to where Francis's was curled around his waist from behind, "Please tell me it's morning," he muttered, tangling their fingers together.

Francis mumbled something incoherent against his ear before murmuring, "Technically, yes. Yes it is." He drummed his fingers against Arthur's stomach teasingly, "Half past four, to be exact. We got to sleep in today," he smiled as Arthur laughed softly at the motion.

"It only counts as sleeping in if we weren't up until midnight," Arthur drawled, sitting up as Francis wrapped both arms around his waist to hold him down. "Come on, up with you," he scolded, "It's only a matter of time until Natalia starts crying too." He rolled his eyes as Francis only hugged his waist harder with a stubborn grunt. "Francis, come on. You're a King now. Act . . . Kingly, or something." "A King, huh," Francis groaned into the other's side, "Kings shouldn't' have to do stuff like this, that's what servants are for."

"Francis . . ." "And kings should get sex every day! No, twice a day!" he proclaimed. "We haven't done it _at all_ since the twins were born. So basically, not since we lived in the north. And don't' forget the pregnancy time as well! That's eighteen months, Arthur! Eighteen fricken months!"

Arthur smacked him over the head, causing him to loosen his grip long enough for the younger man to get away, "Out of bed, Francis. Now."

Francis sat up and rubbed at the back of his head with a frown, "Eighteen months . . ." He mumbled again.

"We'll talk about it later," Arthur chided, pulling him up by the arm, "Now come on."

The shuffled dazedly down the hall to the twins' room, instantly lapsing into _worried daddy _mode. Arthur rocked on his toes near the crib as they each scooped up a child, Matthew cradled gently in his arm, "Why are they _always _crying?" he said to himself, humming under his breath to the fussing child as they made their way to the kitchen. He raised a characteristic eyebrow at Francis, who was holding Alfred above his head and making whooshing noises, the infant giggling hysterically now rather than crying. Francis noticed Arthur's gaze on him and skipped over, taking Matthew from him too and tucking one child under each arm before racing down the hall, the twins squealing in excitement.

The king wasn't surprised to find Yao wandering around in the kitchen, Kiku hanging onto the ends of his robes and toddling along behind him. "Ah, you're a lifesaver Yao," he said thankfully as the boy handed him two freshly whipped up bottles of milk.

"Well, they'll be growing out of it soon enough anyways," Yao said, turning back to the pan he'd been frying eggs in, "They're already starting to eat mashed fruits and vegetables too, like Natalia. Though she seems to like pancakes now too."

Arthur jumped up, handing the bottles to a flustered looking Francis, who was still holding both twins, "Oh, crap. I forgot to get Natalia," he exclaimed, before rushing out of the kitchen.

Natalia's room was between Ivan's and the twins'. When Arthur opened the door, he wasn't surprised to find Natalia standing up in her crib, waiting patiently for him. He smiled at how she'd gotten used to his forgetfulness, but hadn't yet attempted to climb out of her crib. Arthur lifted her up and into his arms, "Ah, there's my good girl," he murmured. "And what would you like for breakfast this morning?" He laughed as she merely stared at him, "How about . . . Some pears?" She shook her head, fiddling with the neck of his pajamas. "Applesauce?" Another shake. "Hmm . . . Eggs maybe?" he asked with a knowing smile.

She turned blue eyes to him with a look that clearly showed that she knew what he was trying to do, "Pancakes," she said quietly.

He laughed again, "Well, I don't know what you want if you don't tell me," he smiled. Arthur hummed to himself as he carried her to the kitchen, "And you know, Ivan's going to get sick of those pretty soon. Hopefully your taste for them will fade before he flips."

A few minutes later found them sitting around the small wooden table in the kitchen, the dining room being saved for guests and special occasions. Arthur had Matthew balanced on his lap with a bottle in one hand, and a knife in the other as he helped Natalia cut up her pancakes into bite-sized pieces from where she sat in a highchair to his right. Francis was at his left, watching with amazement as Alfred downed a second bottle. Yao and Kiku were on the older blonde's other side, Kiku picking sleepily at a pancake of his own. Ivan slid in amidst the commotion a moment later, shoving a chair in between Arthur and Francis and climbing into it before giving the pancakes a tired scowl and tossing some onto his plate.

"Good morning Ivan," Arthur said cheerfully, earning a glare from the boy. Ivan was even less of a morning person than Francis and Arthur combined. The king smiled at the child before turning back to where Matthew seemed to have gotten bored with his bottle. "I don't know what's with Mattie and his milk lately," he said with a frown, trying to get the baby to drink it again. But Matthew merely turned his head to the side with a whine.

"I know," Francis said from Ivan's other side, "Alfred drinks like three of these a meal, and Matthew hardly gets through one if we're lucky. Maybe we should take him to Liech to get checked over."

At that moment, Natalia leaned out of her highchair, fork in hand, and popped a syrup covered piece of pancake into Matthew's mouth. Arthur blinked and tried to pry it out of his mouth, worried he'd choke, but the boy had already swallowed it. Matthew stared at Natalia for a minute before she stabbed another piece with her fork and held it out to him, to which he opened his mouth obediently. Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced at Francis, "I get the weirdest feeling they just had some sort of epic conversation in their minds."

Ivan sunk lower in his chair as Matthew giggled at every piece of pancake given to him, "And I have the feeling that I will be eating these stupid things for the rest of my life . . ."

Francis laughed and took a piece of pancake from Kiku's plate, holding it out to Alfred, "I wonder if he likes them too." Alfred put it in his mouth and promptly spit it out with much exaggeration and raspberries with his tongue. "Apparently not," he smiled, glancing at Ivan, "Well, you and Alfred can have eggs then when he stops being a milk-a-holic."

"And I will eat pancakes until that day," Ivan muttered sourly, pushing his plate away from him with a groan.

"I can make you eggs now, if you'd like," Yao said from the other side of the table.

Ivan jumped up, running over to him and throwing his arms around the older boy's waist, "Yes! _Please_ make me some eggs before I die of a sugar overdose!"

Yao smiled, making his way over to the cupboards to find a clean pan, "Sunny-side-up or scrambled?"

"Scrambled," Ivan exclaimed, still latched onto Yao in his relief, "Love you Yao!"

The older blushed and rummaged around for some eggs, not replying to the comment. Arthur laughed from where he sat, "Yes, you're a lifesaver as usual Yao, I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Cook your own meals?" Yao suggested with a smirk.

"Merde no!" Francis gasped, "That would be terrible!" He kept up his horrified look even as Yao stared at him in confusion, "Have you ever seen Arthur cook?"

"No . . ."

"Be glad you haven't then," Francis said in a stage whisper, "It's quite awful set one of the kitchens on fire in the North fortress." Arthur pretended not to hear, "Hmmm . . . Now that I think about it, I haven't cooked in awhile. Maybe I should make us dinner tonight."

"No!" Francis shrieked, making Alfred giggle in his lap and Kiku jump so bad he nearly fell out of his chair.

An hour later they were all seated in the living room. Francis was on his stomach on the carpet, watching three of the youngest children on the multi-colored blanket he'd placed in the center of the room. Matthew was half asleep with his large stuffed polar bear in his arms, chewing absently on one of its ears. Kiku was building a complicated tower of blocks that Alfred crawled over to every time it was finished and knocked to the floor with a giggle. Francis had tried to stop him after the first time, but Kiku had shaken his head that it was fine. In fact, he smiled every time his creation was smashed as the nine-month-old barreled into it. Yao was wandering around the room and dusting fine vases and shelves of books that didn't look dusty at all. Natalia was sleeping soundly in the crook of Arthur's arm and Ivan dozing off in his lap. Arthur himself had his eyes half open, as if fighting off inevitable drowsiness as well.

It was then that Francis told the story for the first time. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess of the Kingdom of Hetalia. On her eighteenth birthday, she was set to marry one of the many prince's of her nation. But she disliked them all, and snuck out of the castle one afternoon for some fresh air," he began, watching Arthur out of the corner of his eyes. "That's when she met the handsome prince of the Southeast Kingdom. He was bold, and dashing, and brave and oh so very beautiful that she fell in love at first sight."

A small smile quirked at the corners of Arthur's mouth, "No she didn't she thought he was a bloody prick at first." Francis pretended to look aghast, "But she did eventually," he protested.

"Eventually," Arthur conceded.

The older man cleared his throat, "So, the prince and the princess met, and had many adventures together on the castle grounds. They swam in the lake with the sea serpent in it, and they rode the princess's prized unicorn. And one night, they even saw a fairy ring by the far north wall. And they kissed for the first time while the fairies danced and played around them."

Arthur laughed, "So not only am I changed to a girl, our huge moment was turned into simply _a kiss_."

"Not in front of the children," Francis teased. He smile broadly and continued with his tale, "And the angleterre and the prince fell in love. But unfortunately, the next morning, the king and queen announced the name of the prince they'd chosen for the princess to marry, and it was not the prince she loved. Furious, she asked as to why, to which they replied that because the prince she loved was the second son of the Southeastern Kingdom's High Prince, and the child of a mistress, rather than the Queen, that he was unworthy of her hand. She tried to get away, but her parents locked her in her room, and set the castle guards to kill the prince should he attempt to see her."

The smile fell slightly, Arthur's eyes glazing over, lost in heartbreaking memories. So he picked up the story where Francis remained silent, "But one night, just when the princess thought she would never see her prince again, there was a commotion in the stables. The prince came riding out on her unicorn, cutting down any guards that got in between them. And the princess climbed out the window to meet him, and they rode off, jumping over the drawbridge just before it closed. They got away, and they were never caught, riding away to a place where they could live without the rules of the Nobility. And they lived happily ever after."

Francis smiled softly, "Hmm, that is a nice ending, mon cheri. A little falsified though."

"It's better that way," Arthur whispered.

"Was there no _Happily Ever After_ in the real world then, cheri?" Francis asked worriedly.

Arthur smiled slightly, "No, there was. It just took a lot of sadness to get there, and true fairytales aren't like that. But the _princess_ is very happy," he smirked.

"Well, the prince is a little disgruntled," Francis replied with a frown. "Eighteen months . . ." He mumbled.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Francis lay on his stomach on the bed, a book in his hands. It was a record of what had come to be called _The Fall of the North _and _The Battle of the Nobility_. Written by Vash, and sent to him by Antonio. It was strange to see his own name in what would one day be long gone history that children would study, but he didn't mind. His eyes strayed to the wall where his sword hung on finely made metal hooks above the window. Blood still lay on it, dried to a rusty brown with the time that had passed. But Arthur had insisted that it remain there, a declaration of everything they had worked for, his father's blood still glistening on Francis's sword.

It had shocked him how Arthur had wanted every detail of how his father had died by the blade. But then again, when he thought of all the pain that Arthur had gone through because of the man, he couldn't blame him. He knew Arthur had wished the act to be carried out by his own hands, but Francis's had fulfilled it. Hopefully, it was better that way. It made his heart sink to think of his husband killing anybody in such cold blood as he had, let alone his own, corrupted father.

He glanced up from the pages of the book as the door to the bathroom in their room creaked open and he smiled a bit. "You really love those baths, don't you cheri," he remarked smoothly.

Arthur snorted as he closed the door behind him, tightening his bathrobe around his body, "Of course, frog. I couldn't have them for nine months, so it made me feel rather dirty. I'm just catching up."

"And wasting water," Francis grinned. He patted the bed beside him with a lazy motion, setting the book aside, "Come now, let's get some sleep before Alfred decides that he's hungry _again_."

The younger man laughed softly, "I told Yao to look after them for tonight so we could get some decent sleep for once." Francis's eyebrows raised and Arthur merely smiled, "What's that look for?" "Does 'decent sleep' actually mean sleep?" Francis asked slowly.

"Depends," Arthur smirked, loosening his robe a bit, "What do you want it to mean?"

Francis's eyes widened as the robe started to slip down Arthur's shoulders, revealing a bare chest. Instead of saying anything, he motioned for the other to come to the bed again with a hand on the mattress, to which Arthur complied. The older man's arms wrapped around the other's waist as Arthur crawled across the bed over to him, pulling the bathrobe down still further. He sat up a bit as Arthur straddled his lap, leaning down to kiss him lightly, "Mon cheri-"

Arthur's arms looped around his neck as he kissed him harder, "Tell me you love me," he mumbled against the other's lips.

"Je T'aime."

He smiled, pressing closer and pulling back slightly so that their foreheads touched and he could look directly into Francis's eyes. "Don't you _ever_ leave me again," he whispered almost inaudibly. Even saying it hurt his heart, and he closed his eyes to hide the tears that had started to form at the thought.

The older raised a hand from the other's waist to graze them over Arthur's cheeks, brushing away the tears that had started to fall, "Never," he promised softly. He slipped his other hand into the bathrobe, grazing smooth fingers over soft skin. A light kiss was placed on the other's flickering eyelids, the hand that had brushed away stray tears tangling in Arthur's hair. "Mon cheri, I _never_ mean to leave you." He skimmed his hand along Arthur's bare back, watching him shiver slightly at his touch, "Je T'aime, mon Arthur," he murmured.

Arthur shifted his weight on Francis's lap a bit, sucking in a shaky breath as the other's hand hesitated on the small of his back. He leaned forward, kissing him briefly with another shudder. God, he'd forgotten what this felt like, it had been far too long. "Make love to me," he murmured against Francis's ear.

Francis smiled and rolled them over, pressing Arthur down into the mattress and settling between his legs as he slid the robe off all the way, letting it fall to the floor. He placed his hands on either side of Arthur's shoulders, bending down to kiss him slowly, wanting to savor the taste. His tongue teased the other's bottom lip, waiting patiently until Arthur allowed him access with the parting of his lips and the tilt of his head. He groaned as he licked along the inside of the other's mouth, lowering himself so that their bodies melded together, one hand fisting into the sheets of the bed. Arthur murmured something incoherent against his mouth, pulling at his pajama pants impatiently. He laughed, "Mmm, wait a bit, cheri," he mumbled hoarsely, trailing small kisses down the other's neck, "Don't waste the moment."

The shorter man sighed and arched up slightly against the other as Francis kissed teasingly against his collarbone. "Frog," he muttered with a frown, trying to ignore the ache between his legs. Clouds roiled outside the castle and far off thunder echoed in his ears for a moment before he ignored it.

The older blond laughed, "Then kiss me," he smirked, pecking the other swiftly on the lips before continuing his path down Arthur's chest, "And turn me into a prince." He pressed his chest against Arthur's grinding down against him.

Arthur moaned as Francis moved over him, back arching again, "Fuck," he whispered, tangling his fingers into the other blonde's hair and bringing his face around for a kiss to distract himself. Francis murmured unintelligible nothings against his lips, sliding a hand down Arthur's back and rear to press gently at his entrance. The younger gasped as the finger slipped inside, and Francis pulled back a bit to press a hand against his chest, holding him down. "It's been awhile, cheri. Relax," he urged, waiting until Arthur regained a steady rate of breathing before inserting a second digit. Arthur squirmed underneath him, half out of impatience, half from discomfort, but Francis kept him on his back as he methodically stretched him.

Francis removed both hands, grabbing Arthur's legs and levering them up onto his shoulders. He let go with one hand and reached for Arthur's, tangling their fingers together, "Deep breath," he ordered, positioning himself.

The High King sucked in a breath as Francis pushed inside with an audible grunt. He gripped the other's hand tightly, biting his lip and breathing out as Francis stilled to wait for him to adjust. His heart hammered in his chest and he leaned up to kiss the other again, watching the worried look in the blue eyes with a smile, "I'm all right," he reassured, laying back down.

The older man nodded, capturing Arthur's lips again for another brief kiss that ended in a moan, "S'tight," he whispered, breathing heavily.

Arthur let go of Francis's hand, reaching up to place his palms against the other's broad chest with a groan, pushing the older man onto his back so that their positions were slightly reversed. His hands found Francis's knees, using them to lever himself up a bit as Francis stared up at him with glazed blue eyes. He pushed himself up with the other's knees as a support, falling back down with a strangled moan, "Oh . . . Fuck ," he whispered, breath turning shallow as he repeated the movement. Francis's hands rose to grasp his waist, guiding his movements with a gentle touch. Arthur's eyes rolled back into his head with a cry as Francis moved him back down to hit that special spot, his hands gripping the other's knees tighter than before. Lightning flashed outside somewhere in the distance as tiny drops of rain hit the windowpane.

Francis bit his lip and rolled them over again, hand gripping the other's waist tightly as he let go of the restrain he'd been holding onto. Arthur's fingers went to his shoulders, digging into the skin painfully as he pounded into him, but Francis ignored it. Arthur's back arched and his head hit the pillow with another cry as Francis ground against that place inside of him. The younger man's mind whitewashed and he gasped as he came hard against Francis's stomach. Francis kissed him as he rode out his lover's orgasm, following suit with an audible moan. He leaned down over Arthur as he poured hot seed into him, hips still faintly thrusting as he finished. "Je t'aime," he whispered softly, tangling his arms underneath Arthur's but not pulling out just yet.

They jumped simultaneously as the door suddenly creaked open. Francis rolled off the other and grabbed Arthur's bathrobe from the floor to wipe away the mess that lay between them. He pulled on his pajama pants and tossed his spouse the shirt to the set just as Ivan stumbled sleepily into the room, half bent over from Alfred hanging onto his back like a monkey and Matthew in his arms. Arthur still lay in a daze on his back as he pulled the shirt over his head, so Francis asked instead, "What's wrong Ivan?"

Ivan rolled his eyes as lightning flashed outside again and thunder cracked somewhere close by. The twins whimpered in Ivan's arms and the older boy frowned, "They've been crying, didn't you hear them?"

"Um . . . No," Francis said honestly.

"What were you doing?" Ivan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Arthur rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his elbows with a muttered curse, reaching out to take Matthew from Ivan and then Alfred, "Nothing. What happened to Yao?"

"He's asleep," Ivan said nonchalantly.

The blond sighed, "Should have known. I need to stop overworking that poor boy I think," he mumbled to himself. "And where's your sister?"

At that moment, another roll of thunder boomed and the door flew open again as Natalia flew in, scrambling up the side of the bed until she had buried her face against Arthur's chest. He laughed softly, allowing Francis to take the twins from him so that he had room to hold her, "Now, now, what's a brave little girl like you doing out of bed?"

She shook her head but didn't answer, Ivan climbing onto the bed behind her to settle between his two adopted parents. "She's not going to answer that," he informed with a smile. She glared at him before deciding that his chest was a lot more comfortable and latching onto him instead, to which Ivan rolled his eyes. Arthur laughed again and lay back down, helping Francis to settle the four children between them comfortably. He hummed to himself as the twins continued to cry softly, "Francis?" "Yes cheri?"

"What was that song that you sang before, the one about the storm?" He asked quietly. He hadn't heard it since the day the North Kingdom had fallen.

Francis smiled, "Little child," he began, "be not afraid, the rain pounds harsh against the glass like an unwanted stranger. There is no danger, I am here tonight. Little child, be not afraid. The thunder explodes and lightning flash illuminates a tear stained face. I am here tonight . . ."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Sorry this took fricken forever. D: even tho it was mostly written. It's Girl Scout cookie time, so . . . Since I am strangely enough, still a Girl Scout, it's a royal pain getting any work done at the mo. (Next year I will be too old however. Yay.) I have boothsales on half the nights, and then homework on the other half, so it's kinda booked. Oh, and I was also roleplaying with a friend, so yes, slightly distracted. But I've played both Korea and America now, so it's been fun. :] if anyone else feels like Rping with me, feel free to just email me or something. :D it helps my writing skills a bit.

Anywho . . . Next chapter, the twins will be six, a large time skip from being nine months in this one. They'll have a full chapter (possibly two) to themselves and the other small children before they fade into the background again for Ivan to take over for a bit. And then. About 4-6 chapters from now, things are going to suck. A lot. Ack, I still haven't figured out how to write that scene exactly either. D:

Review and I will sell more cookies and thus, update faster!


	7. Chapter 7

**One Last Fairytale: Dream a Little Dream of Me**

_Gilbert knew he was dreaming because his hands were larger than he remembered them to be. His fingers were calloused, the sort of rough marks that came from years of wielding a sword. He felt taller too, though there was no time to test that theory. _

_It was snowing, and he was riding a horse through the light downfall of white. He kicked the animal into a canter as he caught sight of another rider not too far ahead, and realized that he had been following the hoof prints in the snow below. His heart stopped when he drew up beside the other, unease coursing through him._

_If he had thought he seemed taller, Ivan towered over him, even on horseback. His lavender eyes were fixed on the ground as he made his steed circle round and round, searching for something. "They've covered their tracks," Ivan hissed between his teeth, looking so furious that Gilbert's breath caught in his throat. _

_His own words came unbidden, almost as if it wasn't himself speaking them, "Fuck, Ivan . . . Just let them go. There's nothing you can do. And even if you do catch up to them, what would you do? Would you really deny Alfred happiness? That's not the Ivan I know-"_

"_Who says I'm the Ivan you know then?!" Gilbert forced his horse to back up, shocked at the gaze of utter anguish and rage. "I stopped being the Ivan that you know years ago, Gilbert! I don't believe in happiness anymore because everything that I do only ends in pain!" He growled and looked away, angry tears stinging the corners of his eyes, "I just don't want to watch Alfred go through the same. He's all I have left."  
A flash of irritation went through Gilbert at this, "Who says he will?! You're not even giving him a chance, Ivan! And what's that utter bull-shit about him being all you've got?! Arthur and Francis fucking _raised_ you when they could have left you to fend for yourself. God damn it, Ivan, I don't think there's a parent in the world that loves his children more than Arthur loves you and Alfred. And what about me? I promised that I would always be here for you, and you've just thrown that aside like it meant nothing to you! Am I nothing to you too, Ivan?!"_

"_I never asked you to promise that!" Ivan shrieked, pushing his horse to trot closer so that they were suddenly side-by-side. "Promises are useless when everyone is eventually going to die and leave me behind!"_

"_I'd fucking sell my body and soul before I went around dying without you!" Gilbert snapped. He kicked his heels into his horse's side and backed up again, not wanting to be on the receiving end of anything should Ivan choose to lash out. It was then that his eyes caught it. The glint of steel in the snow filled moonlight. He couldn't make a sound, there was no time for a warning. The sword the perpetrator was holding was suddenly sticking out of Ivan's chest, the handle against his back._

_Ivan's eyes widened in shock, but no words came out when he opened his mouth. Nothing except for blood as he coughed, gasping for air, a panicked look in his lavender gaze. Gilbert screamed, drawing his sword from his belt to lop off the head of the stranger who had stabbed Ivan right through. But it was too late, and Ivan slumped forward off his horse and down into the snow without a sound, already dead._

He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, realizing as he returned to the waking world that that his screams were entirely real there too. And he couldn't stop. He could still feel the sword in his hands, and the blood on his clothes. He could still see Ivan, falling, falling, falling. Dead. His screams cut off as his bedroom door burst open, revealing Roderich and Elizaveta in the candlelight of the hallway. Roderich hung back, looking concerned, while Elizaveta rushed forward, wrapping Gilbert in her arms and making soothing shushing noises as she held him against her chest.

A few moments passed before Gilbert let his body slump against her, relief and reality slowly washing over him. He gasped and choked back the pure anguish that the dream had coursed through him, tangling his fingers into the folds of her nightgown with a strangled sob. Elizaveta ran a comforting hand through his silver hair, tilting her head down so that she was more level with him, "Nightmare?" she asked quietly. "What was it about?"

"A death I could not change," Gilbert replied, words muffled against her clothes. He tightened his grip and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take comfort in her condolences and warmth. Since his father had died in the siege on the Nobility seven years ago, Roderich and Elizaveta had taken over his position as regents of the West Kingdom until Gilbert came of age. That meant that for now, they were as much of his parents as Arthur and Francis were to Ivan. He swallowed, trying not to recall the dream at the thought of the name, to little avail. "It was . . . too real . . ." he whispered, biting his lip to keep from crying out again as the bloody scene ran through his mind again.

Roderich drew up beside the bed, candle held aloft in his hand, "Have you ever had a dream like that before, Gilbert?"

"No."

The man's eyes narrowed, and Elizaveta looked up at him with worry, taking note of his contemplating gaze on their foster son. "It is not uncommon for those of higher blood in the three great kingdoms and the nobility to have true dreams, Gilbert," he said after a pause.

"True dreams?" Gilbert echoed, lifting his head from the crook of Elizaveta's arm with widened eyes.

"Dreams that will one day come true," Roderich explained. "It is well known that Roman had them, as well as your father. Katyusha too, if I am not mistaken. It's most common in the High Princes and Princesses. I wouldn't be surpri-"

"Then that dream will come true?" Gilbert interrupted, shaking slightly at the thought.

"If you had not dreamed it, it would be inevitable," Roderich said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But now that you know what's going to happen, you have a chance to change it, correct?"

Gilbert chewed on his lip, letting his head rest on Elizaveta's shoulder again. It was impossible. How could he stop an assassin he'd never seen before, on a dark, snowy night too far in the future for him to know. He sucked in an uneasy breath, resolving to do whatever he could to change the outcome of the dream, no matter what he had to do.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

_Natalia kept one small hand over Kiku's mouth, restraining him from crying out. The other she used to cover the sounds of her own shallow breathing, wondering fearfully if the intruders could hear the heartbeat that thundered in her chest. Their footsteps echoed outside of their hiding place, the sound of papers and tapestries being torn down off the walls and flung out of drawers. She dared not lean close to the small sliver of light between the doors of the cupboard they crouched in, even as an eerie silence settled over the room. Kiku's hands fisted into the folds of her dress, his eyes shifting between the doors and her, his shoulders shaking slightly in the darkness._

_There was little time to scream as the doors were suddenly ripped open, large hands shoved inside and grabbing Natalia by the front of her dress. She bit down on the offending hand as she heard Kiku wail in fear behind her, twisting in the man's grip to catch sight of him being torn from the cupboard and slammed up against the wall. The man holding her yelled as she dug her teeth into his hand, drawing blood, and she was flung against the wall._

_Her breath escaped her in a rush, and she faintly heard Kiku scream again, though it sounded far off and distorted. The man's hand was at her throat, and she struggled to open her eyes, hearing words like _North, heir, _and_ traitor_. Kiku's scream stopped abruptly, unnaturally, and she flailed in the man's grip, twisting and trying to see what had become of her companion. But all she could see was a dark stain of crimson on the wall._

She didn't realize she'd been screaming until strong hands shook her awake. "Natalia! Natalia!"

Arthur leaned over her, a brief look of relief crossing his features as she blinked open lavender eyes. "Shhh . . ." he soothed, sitting down on the bed beside her and running a hand through her long ash-blond hair. "What was the nightmare, Natalia?"

Natalia chewed on her lower lip, raising a hand to rub the tears away from her eyes as she shook her head. Even if Arthur was her father, she didn't want to discuss the contents of her dream with him. He smiled understandingly, lifting her up out of the bed to tuck her securely against his chest. "Let's go to the twin's room, hmm?" he murmured near her ear, allowing her hands to tangle into his nightshirt.

He carried her down the hall, tiptoeing past Ivan's room so as not to wake his oldest child who was a very light sleeper. Arthur couldn't help but feel unnerved at the frequency of his adopted daughter's nightmares of late, knowing that prophetic dreams ran in her bloodline. But he didn't question her on it, nor would he force her to tell him what she had seen. He just hoped he'd be able to help should the dreams ever cross into reality.

Silently, he cracked the door to the twin's room open, only faintly surprised to see that there was already an intruder in their bed. Kiku was buried under the blankets against Alfred's back, small hands entangled in the elder twin's nightclothes. He wouldn't question the servant child what he had dreamed about either, he knew well enough. Yao told him of his sibling's nightmares. Of the waking sobs and shakes, revelations of fire and snow, and a castle crumbling to the ground. Of a heart wrenching scream in the cold air of dawn. Arthur knew the memories well, and he wished that the young child was not haunted by them too. Too young at the time of their happening to recall them with clarity, to old to forget entirely.

He sat down on the bed, releasing Natalia from his arms and allowing her to crawl across the blankets to nestle in between Alfred and Matthew, noticing the way her shoulders slumped and relaxed as she curled up between them. Arthur couldn't help but smile, "Will you be all right now?" he asked softly, running a hand through her hair comfortingly again. She nodded and he stood up, leaving the door open a crack behind him as he left.

The first thing Alfred saw when he awoke every morning was Matthew. The younger twin's eyelids always flickered in that way people's did while they were in the midst of dreams. One hand rested between his cheek and pillow, damp with drool. The other was wrapped tightly around a large white stuffed bear.

Alfred always faced his twin when he slept, even though he tended to sleep on his stomach. Today, he found his left hand tight in the grasp of his sister Natalia, who he was only faintly surprised to see tucked between the two of them, and his right was wrapped around another small hand, his own doing this time. He blinked and turned his head to the other side, smiling slightly. Both intruders to his bed had become such a common occurrence that he didn't even wake up anymore. He laughed softly as Kiku's light, sleepy puffs of breath shifted sandy-blond hair from his eyes. Although the other child's brother Yao was training him to be a servant to the castle, Kiku spent more time with the twins than doing any actual work. Just as he spent more nights in their bed, plagued by nightmares as Natalia was.

And he knew well enough too what they dreamed of. While Kiku's were of a past they were not allowed to discuss around Ivan or his fathers, Natalia's were of a time that had not yet come to pass. And that was what worried him the most. Slowly, he wiggled both hands out of their grasps so he could roll over onto his back and sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a wide yawn. It was a Saturday, so he wouldn't have to sit through boring history and maths lessons today, and that thought cheered him immensely. Matthew stirred on Natalia's other side, awakened by his twin's movement.

"We need a bigger bed," Matthew mumbled sleepily, burying his face in the pillow again with a groan.

Alfred laughed, "Oh, like you care. And besides, where else would you have them go? Dad's room?"  
"God no," Matthew shuddered into the pillow. "I'm scarred for life because of that. And I don't even know what they were doing exactly."

"And yet Ivan goes to their room all the time. Nerves of steel," Alfred whistled.

"Or brain of mush," Matthew added, sitting up with his chin resting on the stuffed bear's head. He watched with glazed eyes as his brother shifted in the blankets, standing up on the mattress with his arms raised and facing Kiku. "Umm . . . What are you doing?" he asked quizzically.

"Waking them up," Alfred grinned, taking a step closer to Kiku, who was still sleeping soundly despite Alfred's loud voice. Matthew merely rolled his eyes, glad that he always woke up right after his twin so that he was not given the same treatment. Alfred abruptly laughed, leaping into the air with a cry of "belly flop!" and falling down right on top of Kiku.

And he wasn't much surprised to see the older child open his eyes with a breathless gasp of surprise, winded from Alfred's weight on top of him. "M-master Alfred!" he stammered, struggling to push the larger boy off of him.

Alfred simply laughed, turning to settle between the other's legs and resting his chin on Kiku's chest with a snort. "It's freaking weird when you call me _master, _Kiku. Cut it out."

"But-"

His words were cut short as Alfred leaned over him, their noses brushing, "No more _master_, kay?" Kiku's only reply was a blush and a small squeak before he finally shoved Alfred off of him, scrambling back a few feet until his shoulders hit the headboard of the bed. Alfred grinned again and stood up once more, facing Natalia this time, though his movements were lighter and much sneakier as he inched towards her.

The exclamation of _belly flop_ was left out as he jumped in the air with every intention of giving her the same awakening as Kiku. What he received however, was Natalia rolling over onto her back, hands and feet in the air as she threw him to the side, causing him to go sailing over the edge of the bed and fall with a huff of surprise to the floor below.

Matthew laughed, leaning over the side of the bed to stare down at his sibling, "You never learn, do you," he smiled.

Alfred lay flat on his back on the carpet, chest heaving, "One of these days . . ." He muttered, "One of these day's I'm gonna get her. I swear."

"Well, good luck with that," Matthew smirked, "cause even Ivan can't pull it off."

Natalia sat up, running her fingers through her hair and untangling a knot with a bored look on her face, "Not gonna happen," she said after a moment, "you and brother are much to loud."

"I was being totally quiet!" Alfred exclaimed, "What about me was noisy at all?"

She turned to look at him with a contemplating gaze, " . . . Your breathing," she said finally.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, covering his nose and mouth with his hands as if he could somehow hear his breathing that way. A frown crossed his face as he raised his eyes up to her again, "Nuh-uh . . ."

Matthew ignored their banter, stretching his arms up over his head with an audible yawn, "What's for breakfast?" he asked after a moment.

"Pancakes for you obviously," Alfred said as he crawled back up onto the bed, "Eggs and bacon for Ivan, waffles for me and Kiku, and whatever is halfway to Ivan's mouth for Natalia."

Another wide yawn, "I don't understand why you like waffles better," Matthew commented, "they're the exact same as pancakes."

"As if," Alfred snorted, as if his twin knew nothing about the subject. "Waffles have little syrup holding squares all over them so that you get the maximum amount of sugar in every bite. Except that Kiku just eats his naked, which is weird," he turned to stare at the dark haired child accusingly, but Kiku just fiddled with his nightshirt absentmindedly, pretending to be oblivious to the look.

Arthur was only mildly surprised when the four of them paraded into the kitchen, demanding their various breakfast orders and fighting over who got to sit where around the table. Natalia triumphing in the match as she shoved Alfred off of her favorite chair. Arthur laughed under his breath, trying in vain to untangle a dazed and still half asleep Francis from around his waist from where he stood with Yao over the gas stove. Rolling his eyes, he motioned to the dark haired teen beside him, "Go wake up Ivan, why don't you." And then to Francis, "Hey you. If you don't cut it out right now I'm gonna have to make the breakfast."

Francis immediately untangled himself from his spouse, snatching the pan and spatula away from Arthur with a panicked look, "Anything but that cheri!"

The younger man frowned, "Strange how that is one of the only two things you're afraid of. My cooking is perfectly fine, thank you."

"Fine as a method of torture on our enemies," Francis grumbled, placing the waffle pan over one of the burners and pouring the batter Yao had whipped up into it.

"Bloody frog," Arthur muttered sourly.

The other only smiled, "Oh, but you love this frog, cheri. What would you ever do without me?"

"Live a peaceful life?" Arthur smirked.

"So mean," Francis pouted, flipping the waffles over and taking out another pan for the pancakes.

"How else would I keep you in line?" Arthur teased in reply, reaching over to squeeze Francis's hand. "And besides, you know very well what would happen to me if you weren't here."  
A sad smile flitted across Francis's features, and he leaned in to give his husband a brief kiss, laughing at the exclamations of "Ew!" from the children behind them, "Oui, mon cheri. And it won't happen again." He turned back to his cooking with a whirl, flipping the waffles onto two separate plates and rushing them over to Alfred and Kiku before beginning work on the pancakes, "Did you want pancakes too, Natalia?" he called over his shoulder.

"Sure," she relented, glancing at the empty seat that should have been occupied by her brother, though she dared not follow Yao in to wake him. Ivan was the worst out of their whole strange little family at mornings. And that was saying something compared to the mixture of Arthur and Francis.

Yao himself had trouble with the task even, and for the third time in the past few minutes since he'd vacated the kitchen, he shook Ivan's shoulder. "Come on ~ aru. If you don't get up you can't have breakfast." He sighed as Ivan merely grumbled something incoherent into the pillow, shoulders hunching as he moved away from the offending person trying to rouse him. Yao bit his lip, leaning over him again, "Ivan ~ aru! Get up this instant!"

Ivan cracked open an eye, staring at him a moment before rolling over onto his back and reaching up a hand. Yao gasped in surprise as he was suddenly tugged down on top of the younger teen, their lips crashing together as Ivan's fingers tangled into his long ponytail. He pressed his hands to Ivan's chest, pushing himself away, "Ivan ~ aru!"

The younger stared up at him with a frown, "You're no fun, Yao," he said after a moment's contemplation, turning over again so that his back was to the other.

Yao sucked in a frustrated breath through his nose, resting a hand on Ivan's shoulder, "And you're stubborn ~ aru," he whispered. "I really wish you'd stop messing around."

"S'not messing around," Ivan grumbled, "I really meant it."

"You didn't ~ aru," Yao said softly, "You just think you did. You're still young, Ivan. And your judgment is skewed." He smiled as Ivan growled in annoyance under his breath, "You have much greater things ahead of you ~ aru. Do not trouble yourself with me."

Ivan rolled over onto his back again, a dark glint in his eyes, "You say that as if you are some sort of burden to me."

"Which I will be if you continue to pursue this ridiculousness," Yao snorted. He rolled his eyes as Ivan sat up, pulling him into another forced kiss, "Might as well give up ~ aru," he mumbled, "I'm not going to kiss you back."

Another frustrated noise escaped Ivan as he drew back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and making his way towards the door, "Fine, be that way." He started as Yao grabbed his arm, pulling him up short, "Wh-"

"No, I'm still not going to kiss you," Yao frowned, "But I would like it if you'd listen to me, just for a little bit." He pushed Ivan back onto the bed, wandering slowly over to the bookshelf. His long, smooth fingers skimmed over the book's spines, up and down and across the shelves. "Have you read all these stories, Ivan?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow, contemplating the question for a moment, knowing Yao's words always had some deeper meaning to them. "Yes," he said finally, resting his elbows on his legs and his head in his hands, watching the other carefully.

"What about this one?" Yao asked, removing a volume from the shelf and holding it up. _Snow White_. Ivan nodded. "Do you remember the traits of Snow White? Specifically, what she was aptly named for?"

"Skin as white as snow," Ivan said evenly, eyes half closed, "Fairest in the land, blah blah blah. So what?"

Yao laughed softly, "Yes. Do you remember what saved her from the spell that had been cast on her? The _death-like_ state she was in?"

"A kiss," Ivan deadpanned, "Woo-hoo. And the point is . . ."

The older teen ignored him, placing the book back on the shelf and withdrawing another, "And this one? What saved the girl in this one, Ivan?"

"Aurora was saved by _True Love's First Kiss_," he frowned, as if it was obvious, eyes lingering uneasily on the ornate cover of _Sleeping Beauty_ for a moment longer than he intended.

"Correct ~ aru," Yao nodded, moving on to an other book on the shelf, "And this one?"

"True love, again," Ivan said, biting his lip, still feeling unsettled by this procedure. What was Yao getting at? "The Beast was saved by Belle's love for him."

"That he was," Yao smiled slowly, placing the thing back on the shelf, wiping away a bit of dust from the wood with a frown. _Mental note_, he thought_, dust Ivan's room ~ aru_. "Remember these stories, Ivan. They'll be worth more than you know one day." He shifted his hand across the shelf until his fingers rested on _Snow White_ once more, "Especially this one. Remember how her life was saved, and why she was called Snow White."

Ivan sighed, standing up again and placing a hand on the doorknob, "I was half hoping that would lead to something about you wanting me to choose my _true love_ or something."

"That was part of it," Yao smiled in reply, flicking the dust from his fingers absentmindedly.

"Well, just so you know, I'd like to have you as mine," Ivan whispered, mostly to himself.

"And as I told you, you're destined for greater things, Ivan," Yao said softly, "Now go, eat breakfast before King Arthur comes looking for you."

The younger teen turned away and shuffled out into the hall with an exasperated groan. God, why did Yao have to be so difficult, he just didn't understand it. Yeah, sure, maybe he was only fourteen, but still. Another long, drawn out sight and he began to trudge down the hall, scuffing his feet in the carpet as he let his thoughts take over. _Skin as white as snow_, yeah, sure. He snorted in frustration, trailing a hand along the wall. "Well, if I ever meet someone like that, I'll be sure to keep an eye on them," he muttered after a moment, trying to recall if he already knew anyone like that. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he ever took time to notice anyone's specific skin tone. Only creepers like Francis and Antonio did that. He made a face at the thought, imagining his adopted father running up to people just to see exactly how tan they were. Weird.

Kiku was holding a massive stack of fresh towels as he followed his older brother down the twisting hallways of the Main Hetalia castle. There would be guests arriving tomorrow, and they had to have all the spare rooms prepared. The two nights from now would be the anniversary of the fall of the Old North Kingdom, and as usual at this time of year, all the high class royalty nationwide were invited to the castle to join the kings in the mourning rituals. Yao had told him a little over four years ago now the story of the North Kingdom's fall, and he hadn't forgotten it. So even if it was just this little bit, he felt that he should be honored to help in the preparations. Except that he wasn't.

How could he be, on this warm July day? It really wasn't fair that he was stuck inside folding and carrying towels willy-nilly around the castle while the sun was shining outside. But he supposed that he'd just have to suck it up. After all, he was a servant in training, or something like that.

A tap on a nearby window startled him so bad he nearly dropped al his towels as he smacked into Yao's back, the older having stopped to see what the commotion was. Who could possibly be tapping on the window? It was over five feet off the ground, after all. It couldn't possibly be-

"That young High Prince and his brother are going to get themselves in big trouble one of these days," Yao muttered, turning to take the stack of towels from his sibling. "Go and play with them, before they kill themselves in efforts to get your attention.

The younger brother bounded over to the window, unlatching it to push it open and peer down at the perpetrators. Alfred was balanced on Matthew's shoulders, the pair swaying dangerously, and Natalia stood some distance away firmly rooted to the ground as if she had no desire at all to participate in their shenanigans. "A-Alfred! Hurry up! You're heavy!" Matthew whined, "How many waffles did you eat today anyways?"

"Six, one for each year like usual, now hush," he turned back to the window, blue eyes gleaming with mischief, "Come on Kiku, let's go play." He held out his hands for the other, ignoring Matthew's groan of protest as Kiku obligingly took said hands and climbed out of the window, causing the twins to wobble a second before Matthew squeaked and they came crashing to the ground.

Alfred groaned after he'd gotten his breath back, deciding that he should be the one to hold up his twin next time, since he was stronger. But still, it was way more fun to be the one who got to knock on the window anyways. Rolling over onto his stomach, his eyes widened slightly as he noticed Kiku sitting next to him, head clutched between his hands and eyes watering. "Ah! Did you bump your head?" he asked, worry washing over him even as Kiku shook his head. "Don't lie, let me see."

Kiku sniffled and removed his hands from the sides of his head, watching out of the corners of his eyes as Matthew got sidetracked with his stuffed bear, which had gotten covered in dirt in the fall, "S'okay," he mumbled, flinching slightly as Alfred gingerly touched the growing bump on his scalp.

The blond frowned, sitting up on his knees and tangling his fingers into Kiku's hair briefly, leaning down to place a careful kiss on the swelling. "There, better now?" He laughed as Kiku blushed furiously and started to stutter out a reply, "Ha ha, come on, let's go throw rocks at the lake monster, kay?"

Ivan paced back and forth in the halls of the lower part of the castle, his feet eventually leading him down to one of the darker places in the underground storage rooms. He wasn't sure why he kept moving, only that it felt uncomfortable to stand still. It was almost as if he was unconsciously searching for something while lost deep in his thoughts. He shrugged the idea off, glancing around at the barrels of various still maturing alcohols. A little taste test here and there wouldn't hurt, now would it.

He crouched down next to the nearest barrel, reading the label with faint interest before popping the top off and dipping a finger inside. A small frown crossed his face at the taste. Not even close to being ready yet. Better find an older one. Grinning, he read the date on the next barrel, pleased to see that it was over ten years old already. Perfect. Prying the lid off, he dipped his whole hand in, licking the stuff off with a satisfied smirk. Francis really did know how to brew up a good wine, no doubt about it. He was just about to move on to a third barrel when the door to the storage area swung open, casting the room in the unexpected glow of candlelight. Startled, and not wanting to be caught for sneaking around in here _again_, Ivan darted behind the nearest pile of wooden barrels.

Footsteps echoed off the stone walls and floor as the intruder made their way down the stairs and around a few of the barrels. Ivan didn't dare risk peering out of his hiding place even as the person began to fill up a bottle from one of the barrels. "Ah, what's this ~ aru? Who left one of the barrels open?"

Ivan didn't know whether to flinch at his stupid mistake, or to sigh with relief that it was only Yao. He stood up, dusting off his pants as he did so, "Sorry, didn't know it was you," he smiled.

Yao frowned, "You know you're not supposed to be down here ~ aru. You're still underage."

"And you're still stubborn," Ivan drawled, stepping a bit closer. He reached out and grabbed Yao's arm as the other tried to instinctively backpedal. "Just listen to me, please," he begged, eyebrows furrowing together. "Not everything has to have that fairytale ending, Yao. You said I was 'Destined for greater things,' but so what! Who says that I have to play by the rules of destiny? That's ridiculous! I want to make my own destiny, thank you very much."

"Ivan, don't-"

"I'm an inch taller than you are now," Ivan interrupted, "So isn't it time you stopped playing my caretaker, and started playing something else?" He leaned in close, his mouth only a hair's breadth from Yao's ear, "Don't tell me that you don't love me."

"You're cruel ~ aru," Yao whispered. "What am I supposed to tell you then? That you're the most important person in my life? Because it seems you already knew that, didn't you ~ aru." He bit his lip, frustrated tears welling in his eyes, "A servant and a prince hardly go together, Ivan."

"And neither do peanut butter and jelly," Ivan smiled, "but guess what, they work pretty well together, don't you think?" He kissed the side of Yao's neck, pressing him up against the wall, "So, what harm will it do if you humor me, Yao?"  
"It'll harm my dignity," Yao huffed, sucking in a shaky breath as Ivan moved a bit to catch his lips. The older teen tangled his fingers into the back of Ivan's ornate nobility shirt, drawing back a bit, "Ivan, please-"

"Too late to change my mind," Ivan warned softly, kissing him again and pressing their bodies together.

Yao hissed between his teeth, trying to back up only to have his shoulders scrape against the bricks at his back, "Stop, Ivan, you don't know what you're-"

"Shush, I know exactly what I'm doing," Ivan murmured near his ear. "Stop treating me like a little kid, Yao." He traced one hand down the other's chest, slipping it beneath the hem of Yao's pants.

"Ivan!"

"Don't treat me like a child, Yao!" Ivan snapped, "Because you're hardly one either anymore, are you?" He smirked as Yao gasped, face growing red as Ivan took him in his hand, "This part of you doesn't lie, Yao," he smiled, kissing him again as he ran his thumb over the head, pushing the other's pants down a bit farther.

Yao groaned, unconsciously jerking up into his grasp, "Ivan-" He jerked away from the kiss, pressing his face into the taller teen's shoulder with a moan as Ivan only gripped him tighter, moving his fingers along his length.

"Just go ahead and come, Yao," Ivan urged, "You know you want to." He smirked as Yao gasped again, bucking up into his hand with a strangled noise of pleasure.

The older teen shook his head, biting his lip and digging his nails into Ivan's back as he couldn't help but comply, spilling out hot seed into Ivan's waiting hand, hips still jerking. "You're . . . So mean ~ aru," he whispered hoarsely, blushing furiously as he realized what he'd done.

Curious, Ivan licked some of the stuff off of his palm, "You clearly enjoyed it," he remarked smoothly, watching as Yao narrowed his eyes in response. "Tell me you love me, Yao. And none of your lies this time, da?"

Yao snorted, pulling up his pants to their proper place and striding past him, grabbing the bottle he'd come down here to fill as he went. He was at the top of the stairs before he turned, a defiant smirk on his face, "Wo ai ni, Ivan, you jerk."

Ivan smiled, "Let's do this again sometime."

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Gilbert paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, gripping the hilt of his sword tight in his other hand. "Don't stop now," he urged as Roderich stalled on the opposite side of the room, "I'm not tired yet, aristocrat."

Roderich rolled his eyes, "You should be. We have to head out towards Main Hetalia tomorrow, you should get some rest, Gilbert."

"And that's exactly why I'm not resting," Gilbert huffed indignantly, "I need to get more practice in."

"And what exactly are you planning to do with all of it?" Roderich asked, taking up a defensive stance again as Gilbert gripped his blade with both hands once more.

"You never know," the albino smirked in reply, darting towards him. His blows were easily parried off by the much more experienced Roderich, and his sword nearly flung from his grasp by an unexpected swing from below. He ducked, twisting out of the way and around the other's back before Roderich had time to breathe, pressing the tip of his blade against his spine. "My win," he smiled.

"Then that makes us ninety-three to one," Roderich deadpanned. "So now that you've moved up a step, can we _please_ get some rest now? I'll be asleep on my horse tomorrow at this rate."

"And wouldn't that be hysterical," Gilbert remarked. He was promptly hit upside the head by a reprimanding hand.

"And you'll be even worse for wear then he will be," Elizaveta scolded, "Now off to bed, the both of you."

Gilbert groaned, but shuffled away, hanging up his sword on the rack near the door as he went, and almost colliding with the person standing just outside the room. "Jesus Ludwig! What are you doing up so late?"

The young blond scuffed his feet against the wooden floor, staring at the wall, "Why are you working so hard at your lessons all of a sudden, brother?"

The question put Gilbert slightly off balance, "Well, that's . . ." He hesitated, unsure of what to say exactly, and he rested a hand on his sibling's head reassuringly. "There's . . . Someone that I want to protect, West. Do you understand?" Ludwig nodded, "Good boy. Now come on, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, ja?"

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Hmm . . . Dun know what to say this time except that there was a shit ton of foreshadowing all over the place. And that's about it. Been super busy as of late, overloaded myself with work AGAIN. And speaking of work I have overloaded myself with, it is self-promotion time. If you are a fan of France/England (Francis/Arthur), or America/Japan (Alfred/Kiku) then please take a look at my new joint fic with Myriad Lapse called One Day Too Late. It's on our joint account What The FrUk.

Here's the summary, if you're interested.

Arthur Kirkland has dreamed of falling in love his whole life, of becoming one of the princes in the old stories he used to read, brave and courageous enough to rescue the princess from evil. But deep down, he knows he's the one that needs saving, from his weak heart that is slowly killing him. And he starts to give up hope until he runs into a mysterious man who just may offer the key to his salvation, if only he were willing to give it. And while Arthur tries to convince his possible savior to save his life, another shadow stalks them, searching for the same sort of cure for an entirely different problem. What is the price for immortality? Keep out of the full-moon light.

And finally, I have an age list for anyone who cares. Because even I'm getting their current ages mixed up in this fic. In most Hetalia stuff it doesn't matter, but in AU's where they actually age, yes it does. So here are their ages in THIS chapter. A new one will be added after we get back to present times like in chapter one.

Age List

Francis - 32

Arthur - 30

Antonio -34

Yao -17

Ivan - 14

Gilbert - 15

Elizaveta - 33

Roderich - 33

Vash - 32

Liech - 27

Ludwig - 8

Feliciano and Lovino - 7

Natalia - 7

Kiku - 7

Alfred and Matthew - 6


End file.
